


Roanapur Connection

by DeadlyViperQuill, Waggleton



Category: Black Lagoon (Anime & Manga), Code Geass
Genre: 90, Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Politics, China, Crossover, Japan, Multi, Prequel, Thailand, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-06-17 07:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 84,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15456408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadlyViperQuill/pseuds/DeadlyViperQuill, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waggleton/pseuds/Waggleton
Summary: The familiar tale of world powers: where one falls, another is prepared to take its place. But, this shift in dominance finds the living squatting within the city of the dead. Times have changed and the fates of millions rests in the hands of the few. They must band together or face a dark age this world has never seen. Prequel to Code Geass: Colored Memories, Coverart by KiraLNG.





	1. If you Will It, It is No Dream

[Roanapur Connection Fic Cover](https://www.deviantart.com/blackmambauk/art/Roanapur-Connection-729724147)

**Disclaimer: We do not own any of Code Geass/Black Lagoon characters, stories or anything else related to Code Geass or Black Lagoon, all of it belongs to their creators.**

**A/N: Hi everyone, finally have the first chapter of Roanapur Connection is here. For those who aren't Code Geass fans or have read my CG fics. Roanapur Connection is actually a prequel fic to my own soon to be rebooted Code Geass fic by good friend anneauxdelacroix , Code Geass Colored Memories and in general to Code Geass as well. Since the mid 90's period of it has never been covered in any fanfic, canon source in any real detail despite much happening in it according to the R2 novels and the rise and fall of certain people and powers. Mixed that with my own desire to explore Black Lagoon after watching it and falling in love with it. Along with a fair bit of backstory i came up with for Colored Memories relating to Kaguya Sumeragi and her parents that I also felt would make for a great fic in it's own right.**

**Viola we have Roanapur Connection.**

**That is mainly being written by my good friend Seth Slimy Rollins aka Waggleton. The writer of Persona 5 fic Persona: Unconscience and by myself in a few sections. We will update this fic wherever possible. But just to note this fic is being written by Seth whenever he gets spare time from his Persona fic that is his main project and me form when i ain't busy rebooting Colored Memories and RL commitments. Our current schedule is every other month to update with new chapter.**

**We hope you enjoy our work and how we explore both series at the same time.**

**Me and Seth thank you for reading our fic and for taking the time to click, review etc.**

**Blackmambauk and Seth Rollins.**

**Cover art by KiraLNG.**

**Chapter edited by JadeLei727**

* * *

 

**[Date: 04/04/1995 ATB, Time: 20:00, Sakai Town Center/Sumeragi Conglomerate Headquarters Office]**

Of all the things Natsumi Sumeragi prized about herself, one of her most secretly treasured traits was her inability to dream. Every night she would sleep, and she would rise the next morning without any kind of shock or freakish recollections. She would hear her colleagues complain about night terrors or sad memories of things that could not be, whether from the quiet chatters amongst her employees or her own family, and she would quietly snicker, blessed to be free of any kind of wandering mind.

It wasn't always the case, sadly, but thankfully, Natsumi had expunged all memories of the frivolous machinations of her childish mind. No sad thoughts of her old classmates, crushes, loves, dreams that could be mixed with history.

There was only one nightmare that she could never escape — her, as a child standing on the shores of Sakai. Giant monsters, masses of hatred, storming and destroying the Daisen Kofun. The moon crimson and raging across the twinkling stars. She watched as ancestors upon ancestors became engulfed in flame, destroyed by an undefined war from an impossible future. Her country was turned into a cathedral of death worship. The memory was clear and horrifying, nestled in between lazy Sundays in the fields of Japan, and working calmly and studiously with the tutors her family could afford.

This memory is why Natsumi demanded her office in the Sumeragi Conglomerate Headquarters must be in a certain spot, overlooking the holy burial ground of Daisen Kofun. She stared at it in defiance every morning as she studied and planned, while eating whatever small meals she decided to eat on her own, or when admiring a prized possession — a small, yet ancient farming knife that was recovered during reconstruction work on the mound's tourist museum. She paid more than she probably should for it, stealing a piece of immense archeological importance in a bit of frivolous spending and slight pettiness towards herself.

Natsumi loomed from the window, wearing a casual dressing gown that, to the average observer or courtesan, appeared quite modest and unassuming — but, to those with the vision that Natsumi tried to cultivate around her, they would see the dress as being from one of Japan's top designers — a direct descendant of royal dressmakers, as it were.

She watched the knife softly tumble and roll, floating inside the glass case she had commissioned for it. The sunset on the mounds, making the water surrounding it turn into a violent orange hue.

Natsumi ignored the sound of a keycard being slid against a security lock as she admired the sunset, the slow rotations of the ancient knife inside the glass, the view of the glass spires among spires of Sakai.

"Ah! Natsumi, I didn't expect…"

She turned towards Haru's voice. "Shouldn't you be home by now?"

"I'm just checking on things…" he said, turning towards the tablet in his hands. "Just running analytics for everything."

"Have you taken the news into account?"

"The news? Oh…" Haru scrolled to the side of his tablet and groaned. "Juruo Fushita. Yes, I saw."

Fushita was the Prime Minister of Japan for all of a year. He was beloved by his constituents, charismatic, and was en route to end the so-called 'Kuso Period', or so it was called. However…

"Five PM's in five years…" Natsumi shook her head disdainfully, but the disdainful smile remained. "Do you ever wonder if we're nearing the end?"

"I wouldn't say it like that…" Haru rested against the wall, realizing that Natsumi most likely didn't have anyone to talk to all day. Or, at least, nobody close enough to share her thoughts with.

"Think about it, Haru. We've gone through five prime ministers in five years. It's almost unprecedented! What does this mean for us?"

"They weren't assassinated. I don't see why it's that big of a deal."

"Isn't it?" Natsumi looked back at her dagger, from centuries past. "Five PM's in five years. Not assassinated, not impeached… just resigned. Nobody wants to lead this country anymore. What does that mean?"

"I think we're doing pretty well, I suppose…" Haru examined the tablet once again. "Our finances and investors are still fairly solid, and none of the analytics have seen a future drop…"

"Have they taken the news this morning into account?"

"Not… yet…"

Natsumi nodded, and carefully picked up a small book on one of her shelves. It was some old English tome, one that she bought on an auction that she had yet to send to get translated. "The line of succession right now is a mess, isn't it? Suppose a newcomer were to come in…"

"Are you suggesting?"

"Why not?"

Haru looked out the window, staring at the skyline of Sakai. "Not that you're not apt for it, but… maybe the situation is a bit more intense than you know?"

"Tell me — in my position, at this company, what don't I know?"

"That's fair, I suppose, but business is still different than politics. Especially when half the world is in a cold war about to go hot."

"Relax, we're still in Fade Out. It's quite manageable, I'd say."

"Japan is still, well… it's right on the coast of China. If something were to happen, we'd be a target, wouldn't we?"

"It's a possibility, but they'd most likely want to go westward, wouldn't they?"

"We're still an important target, I'd say. What, with Sakuradite, one of the few countries with a high focus on refinement… it'd be tempting, I'm sure. Haven't the Sumeragi made any attempts to broker peace?"

Natsumi's face went sour. "It's been complicated, Haru. You know how tough it is to navigate centuries of family politics, I'm sure."

"Yes, I do, certainly."

She sighed as she thumbed through the book. It was in that strange, old English, unrecognizable to her, or even seasoned English speakers. She bought it without even inquiring what it meant, and it always vexed her.

"The Sumeragi will remain neutral to both countries. Whatever happens, we will survive."

"I hope you're right. But I can't help but think… excuse me, but perhaps we should perform something preemptive."

"We?"

"Err, Japan, I meant. What if we made some sort of move, like striking a port? It'd be a way to show that we shouldn't be invaded or bothered."

Natsumi lightly bonked Haru on the head with the book, spreading dust onto his black hair. "Because that's always worked so well in the past."

"Well, we do have…"

"No, no. Even if I were in charge, with you by my side, Japan wouldn't do anything. We may be involved, but our goal should be to keep our country and family safe, not to expand unto Asia or any other sort of… grand theatrics. We have Sakuradite — surely, that should be enough to dissuade invaders."

"It'd be tempting for China, though."

Natsumi laughed. "You're oddly raring to go, aren't you? Aren't you the same Haru that refused firearms training? I had to pull a lot of glout to get you back in… but, then again, you did pick it back up recently… are you planning something?"

"Not… planning…" Haru returned to his spot on the wall, hugging the tablet computer to his breast. "Call me pessimistic, but I think this thing between China and Britannia won't end well. If combat were to come onto Japan, I might enlist. I might even see if we can help protect the island before something like that happens."

"The Sumeragi Conglomerate is interested in protection and economics, not dirty bombs and guerilla warfare."

"Yes, Natsumi, I'm aware."

"You don't have to act like a scolded kid, y'know? Dreaming of valor is fine, yes, but living the life of a soldier isn't as fun as people make it out."

Haru remained silent.

"My grandfather fought in that first round of conflict. The country made him out to be a hero, and I'd have to say he was… but he was never really the same when he came back. You're a good friend of mine, Haru. I'd hate to see that happen to you. Surely, you don't hate China, right?"

"I'm afraid of it at this moment, but I don't hate anyone."

Natsumi walked closer to him, pulling out her own PDA. "Well, I've been meaning to tell you, but I'm afraid it won't pan out."

"What's that?"

"Oboro has been helping me for a good month or so, trying to find a way to get China to keep the Sumeragi safe. Considering our, well, glout among these parts, it should manage to evolve to keeping the whole of Japan out of the war…" she smirked at Haru. "Far from the glory of combat, but it'd save more lives in the long run, right?"

"That's great news."

"But, don't spread it around. It might not come to fruition — not that it matters much. But I don't want our employees to hear about this and think everything will be fine."

"Why not?"

"The world is a chaotic place, Haru," she softly affirmed, sending the details of the plan to Haru's own device. "We can't expect everything to happen in the best way, or the worst."

* * *

**[Date: 04/04/1995 ATB, Time: 23:00, Shinozaki Dojo, Odawara Kanagawa]**

Oboro laid on her husband's chest on the hard floor of their home. The day had been spent training, repairing, sparring — all-in-all, completely exhausting, and in the evening all one could do was lay down and rest on the hardwood floor.

Despite the nature of their marriage — an arranged affair between one Kyoto House family and the closest Subordinate Clan sworned to Clan Kirihara, the Shinozaki, Oboro and Saburo had nothing but love for each other. Or, at least, Oboro thought so. Saburo had a habit of being… gruff. He sometimes felt like a brick wall, which makes sense, since he was built like one. Thankfully, his muscle and heavy-set body was very comfortable for Oboro to lay her head on after long days and long nights.

Speaking of nights, he was snoring. How romantic.

Oboro hoisted herself up from his belly, looking at her husband. He was gently sleeping, though his snores still rung around their still-being-built living room. She huffed.

"Oh, darling Saburo…" she gently hummed. "My sweet, darling Saburo… must be dreaming of stock prices and inheritance…"

Oboro went to stroke his face, but her hand was quickly swiped away.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were sleeping…"

"I was."

Saburo sat up and leaned against the wall, and Oboro took her place again, laying her head on his lap.

"Did you have a good day so far?"

Silence.

Oboro's smile faded. "C'mon, you're not still worried about it, are you?"

"I have to be."

Oboro had to force herself to lay off — she really did know what was worrying him, the issue was finding a way for him to forget it.

"C'mon, not everything has to be about politics, right?"

Saburo shook his head. "Everything is politics nowadays. The news, the press, the people on the street…"

"Well, of course the news is going to talk about news, right?"

"I saw an ad last evening for joining the Navy against China on television."

Oboro looked up at the ceiling. She knew what he was talking about — teenagers waving a Japanese flag on a battleship as it flew towards a great red cloud across the coast. It didn't say what they were fighting, but she knew the implication.

"Nationalism is at a high. Nationalism, not patriotism. It's staggering."

Oboro tried to remain silent. She saw the studies, of course — Saburo always shared them to her first, but it was still hard to believe. Japan was preparing for a war, even if nobody wanted to be a part of it in the first place. Even so, they were building and rallying. As Fushita said before he had resigned, 'China wants a war, and they shall receive one tenfold.'

And, of course, both of them knew it was inevitable. They'd probably have a hand in causing it.

"Do you think any of these kids know what it's even about?"

"I doubt it." Saburo shook his head. "I think they just believe it's about Chinese culture, or some kind of declaration, something like that. I think the story behind it would just bore them. Having an enemy is exciting."

Oboro looked up at her husband again. "You're going to be fine, right?"

"Every time I see one of our new students, I can't help but think… what if there's a draft? What's the fatality rate going to be like? We can't prevent it."

"I think what we have planned might keep things calm, right?"

"We can make a shelter for Japan," Saburo nodded. "But everything else outside is going to be devastated by that storm."

* * *

**[Date: 05/04/1995 ATB, Time: 3:00pm, Newcastle City Centre, England]**

"Nathan, Nathan, you certainly know how to set up shop!"

Nathan chuckled as the large Indian man pulled open a window. The two were occupying an 'abandoned' office space. It had been renovated under-the-radar by other members of their organization, and the two had been moving in cargo as fast as they could.

"What time is it?"

Ganabati checked his PDA before rushing to the other window. Beneath them was St. James Park, and he could see the entirety of Newcastle from their office. He retrieved a pair of military-grade binoculars that had been extensively modified, covered in stickers from Mumbai F.C., and tampered a bit with the internet connection before turning them on.

"Ah-ha! Hope the wankers spent some good money on those box seats, the cocksuckers. Especially with how they stripped this fine city of everything that made them their ill-gotten things. Oh look, I can see the local filth head next to Greengrass. He certainly benefited from knocking a few heads in his time… especially northern heads!"

Bare knuckles wrapped in fine leather gloves clenched themselves tightly.

In a bit of a coincidence, Newcastle and Delhi were playing today in a friendly between the Spring breaks the English football league had going on, a coincidence Ganabati was glad to arrange if nothing else. Both Nathan and Ganabati had money riding on the game, along with probably half of Golden Company. All-in-all, it was shaping up to be an interesting day.

Nathan took out his own pair of binoculars and watched as the referee blew his whistle and flipped a pound coin. Delhi called tails, and it landed tails. Ganabati cheered and elbowed his partner.

"If I were smarter, I'd have assumed you'd rig that."

"No, no, nothing to ruin the spirit of the game," Ganabati smirked. "Maybe rig the field with explosives on England's side, but not that."

"Well, isn't that a bit extreme to do such a thing to my beloved football club and city, eh?"

"Shouldn't you be getting to work? Maybe play with my gift a bit, hm?"

Nathan rolled his eyes and went to a nearby miniature mainframe, situated on a table with a few different documents, flash drive cartridges, and PDAs. He pressed his hand onto the screen, waiting for it to recognize his fingerprints, and inserted one of the cartridges, marked with masking tape and Hindi. The screen flashed with a map of Newcastle, of its current state, which was lacking in more ways than one with rusty steel, sullen brick work and depressing people lining the streets, a true shell of its former self in Ganabati's eyes. As was the case of all the northern cities he had witnessed over the years.

Yet Nathan seemed so fond of it despite never being there often, it's often the only time he saw Nathan relax himself when he was with another person, whether it be watching his football team, or with the way he gets involved with local efforts and the way he talks with local workers, businesses or disability groups.

Ganabati turned a slight glance to the rest of the room they were in. Casting his eyes on the many boards of building structure outlines for parts of Newcastle, An outline for business propositions. The table of council documents, application for grants. Books containing Acts in the UK and video equipment and film cameras.

It was clear that there was passion and vision.

One Ganabati was interested to see if Nathan could achieve what he wanted to achieve. He had come far since the years he had first uncovered him. Long before he started wearing tailored fancy suits and sunglasses. Whether it's in the deserts of Africa, Wastelands of Eastern Europe or Mountains of India invested with crows. He was always suit and tie wherever they go. Pride was the feeling Ganabati felt towards the lad. For he had been a most worthy investment professionally, and personally for one who also knew what it was like to be in the rabbit hole as Nathan called it.

Then the greater London Area as the map moved further south, along with several different case files for every Golden Company operative in London. To which Nathan rarely if ever showed his face to the bosses there. He always seems to sour when they go south, as if it was diseased, or still suffering from the smog days Ganabati remembered seeing when he first saw London back in the 60's. It was worse than the dust Mumbai got in his old neighbourhood.

"I hope everyone is here, yeah?" Ganabati said, watching as the mainframe sent the same map to his binoculars. "Hope they all got the memo, don't want to just be the two of us heading in there."

Nathan eyed him. "You don't think we could?"

"No, of course we could. Just have to have a few Tanks, maybe. More guns than one of those big fuck-off helicopters, right?"

"Not sure that's in the budget."

"Half of this office isn't in the budget," Ganabati reminded him. "Gotta keep it off the books, eh? You English always had a knack for that."

Nathan nodded, but his concentration was broken by his associate cheering. "Who's scored, Newcastle or Delhi?"

"Delhi! Woo!"

"Bugger."

Ganabati saw Nathan picked up another cartridge, this time labeled 'OHOAG' in ink and cursive, and plugged it in. The entire plan for Golden Company's expansion into Asia was loaded on it, complete with suggestions for personnel to bring, routes, possible flights and strategic information, and the contact documentation for four wildcards in Japan.

"Japan, Japan…" Ganabati scowled. "What a shitshow, huh? You hear about the news?"

"Five PM's in five years… to be expected considering whom really holds power over there."

"Eh, I bet at this time, having a permanent king don't sound so bad."

"Japan does not have kings or emperors, remember. They flogged monarchy systems after they lost the Great War. Corporations and lineages is what they have had since."

"Specifics, specifics…" The Indian waved his hand dismissively, it was nothing compared to what he and his people had and have gone through.

"Agh! Dammit. You Newcastle… red card, of course. Of course!"

"Was it eck, Elliott tackled him fair and square! Besides, Japan has independance.

Having a governmental cock-up every few years, hardly compares to what we have had to endure since our abandonment by those fucking…"

"You don't need to remind me." Ganabati tried to pay closer attention to the game, he did not need to hear Nathan's angst about it again for the millionth time, even closing the windows from the mainframe on his sightseer. Independance was still a strong word to him. He remembered seeing the tanks and Frames roll into Delhi's squares, the battle of Red Fort, and a bunch of invading pricks defacing the Taj Mahal with the Britannian flag through projection. He saw the invasion from the slums, the tyranny from the palaces of nobles. He was born into Britannian India, and he would see the flag rise once again if it would take him until his death.

As far as he was concerned, the Golden Company's interference would throw the first wrench into the giant Britannian war engine.

"So, we wait until the game ends, then we head to the airstrip and depart down to merry old London to meet with the bosses."

"And, my friend, it looks like you'll be buying the drinks."

"We can wait until we get to the rendezvous."

Ganabati feigned being disgusted. "Trust me, English beer tastes like piss, but I'd have that before I have whatever passes for alcohol in Thailand."

"I don't see you complain about the piss whenever we are at the Strawberry. Alex and Michael made sure of that. Though they never got me drinking, could never stand alcohol in any form."

"Anyways, you don't want to take in the local flavor, eh?"

"Maybe, once the checks from our friend clears. Then I can retire on the beach in Thailand, Bangkok, Macau, wherever. I'll drink all the shit liquor I want."

"Well, let's keep our eyes on the prize."

"I am. And you're the prize, as it's turning out! Ha!"

Nathan retired to his chair and pulled up his 'gift' from Ganabati — a long cobra, speckled in white and brown, Ganabati could see the smile creep among the scars that embodied Nathan's lips and cheeks. His name was Lucius — a fitting name for a snake, as far as Nathan knew. Thankfully, it was defanged — at least, that's what Ganabati told him (it was the bare minimum demanded by the zoologist at the university he had to get permits and training from from to buy Lucius), allowing it to wrap itself around Nathan's shoulders. Ganabati imagined it's smooth skin would suit Nathan's perchance for stroking certain textures that he says stims him.

"Heh, you are way too trusting, my friend."

"Why wouldn't I be, friend?"

Ganabati chuckled and returned to the game, pulling Newcastle Brown ale from a cabinet and cracking it open on the side of the window. "Ah ha, Newcastle just keeps getting worse and worse…"

"You underestimate us, once our lads truly get going. You never forget the sight of Alan, David, Rob and Les smashing you to pieces. Just ask the mackems down the road on that."

"No need, friend."

Ganabati noticed Nathan was thinking against watching the game on his PDA, but he guessed that keeping an eye on his reactions throughout the afternoon was proving be much more informative, always wanting to study what was around him and grasp others, that was Nathan. The plane and group wouldn't come for a while, and Ganabati had insisted on getting to the office right as the game started — 3pm.

Without much to do, Nathan picked a leather-bound notebook, labelled 'I' on it in stitches, from his personal briefcase. He waited for Lucius to calm down, pried open the withered diary, and began to read while spinning a worn cane in his left hand. The contents not even Ganabati knew, to which his friend kept, like a lot of feelings and persona apart from Ganabati… to himself. Maybe this trip to Japan might change that, along with the fate of his country and allow both to expand their horizons even further.


	2. Eye Of The Storm

**A/N: Hi Everyone, here is what is pretty much the first of the equivalent of the picture Dramas from Code Geass. Chapters that cover bits and characters that fill in the timeline, organisations, lore etc. you name it. This has been written by my very good writing friend, BlackManaBurning and myself. I would like to thank Black once again for agreeing to help me with this chapter. I most certainly hope to write again with Black for future chapters after clicking so well here and the level of detail, writing and so on that we ended up writing double what we originally planned to do.**

**Seth is still working on chapter two after the first draft came in earlier this month, hopefully it will be ready to go up soon.**

**Also, in case you haven't heard or read the news elsewhere. The tile and cover for Colored Memories is going to be changed, so that it's a clean break form Colorless Memories so people don't get confused between the two fics. Along with that Cat can decide on what she wants the title to be and what the cover conveys and who goes on it. Since she will be writing it first and foremost so the main call should be hers.**

**Thanks everyone and enjoy the chapter.**

**Blackmambauk/Blackmanaburning**

* * *

" _The Golden Company has the motto "Our Words is as good as gold" which they have for the most part, proven over the many years they have claimed to have operated as a merc company. They have rarely broken their contract and often it's the other party that did so. Which tends to end badly for them, as the sacking of Florence proved to the Pazzi when they tried to stifle the GC, or the switching of sides showed the Ottomans and Malcals during their invasion of the Middle East in early 20th century. So how does this relate to india, well when you are going up against the knights of Brtiannia. You need the best company around to help with that. India..._

_India is supposed to be a religious country above everything else, Hindu_ ,  _Muslim, Sikh and others take pride in their faiths and testify to their truth by breaking heads. Almost always it seems to stand for blind belief and reaction, dogma and bigotry, superstition and exploitation, and the preservation of vested interests. And yet I knew well that there was something else in it, something which supplied a deep inner craving of human beings. How else could it have been the tremendous power it has been and brought peace and comfort to innumerable tortured souls? Was that peace merely the shelter of blind belief and absence of questioning, the calm that comes from being safe in harbour, protected from the storms of the open sea, or was it something more? In some cases certainly it was something more_   _And will be once Britannia is kicked out of it."_

-Ganabati Chief Engineer of the Production department in the Golden Company.

* * *

**[Date: 05/04/1995 ATB, Time: 12:00pm, The Golden Company Headquarters, Westminster, London England]**

_Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud…_

The leather heel of Nathan's cowboy boots kept steady time for Ganabati in the clockless, windowless room.

Clouds of cigar smoke rippled beneath the few yellowing lights and nearly managed to conceal a conspicuous patch of mould-growth peppering one of the musty room's dankest corners.

Papers detailing Nathan and Ganabati's strategies concerning the situation in Asia coated the stately table before them in a sea of white and black ink, and passed between hands like Chinese whispers.

At the center of the sea of papers rose a silvery tower glistening with handmade treats, from simnel cake and arctic rolls, to savoury chocolate chip cookies and white-frosted chocolate cakes possessing the familiar, hearty scent of Bailey's Irish Cream.

Miss Body's fingers slowed over the keys for the first time in over an hour, according to Nathan's time, giving the kindly woman a moment's rest from her meticulous notetaking.

'Makes a man wonder why a woman with such talented hands would spend her days typing instead of making sweets at some famous pâtissierie,' Ganabati often wondered.

Nathan unlaced his fingers from in front of his face. He reached for a particularly large chunk of chocolate toffee, a severe expression dead-set on his pale face while his heel tapped the thick Persian carpet.

'Gonna' be a hole in the floor by the time this meeting's over.'

Ganabati's stomach gurgled like a lion's roar in the quiet room. He loosened the collar of his suit in an attempt to lessen the pressure, but it did little to quiet the churning of his stomach. He lifted his hand up to his splendid muzzle, but failed to stifle a loud belch.

'Fucking Newcastle Brown Ale,' Ganabati shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Have a few too many spices with your dinner, eh, Paki?" Mr. Dink sneered from across the table.

Ganabati glared at Mr. Dink, the pansy-ass salaryman.

Probably got his moth-eaten grey suits from the estate auctions of other pansy-ass salarymen. He'd be perfect as an Accounts Director if it weren't for that cobweb-thin combover and a dented nose beneath his taped glasses – glasses and a busted-up nose you'd think would be reminder enough to Mr. Dink every time he looked in a mirror not to mess with Ganabati – that made men and women alike take one look at him and instantly back away before Dink even tried to kiss your ass.

While Ganabati glared, Nathan's stoic face cracked a tiny grin.

Nathan chuckled a little, and the tempo of his bouncing leg picked up, earning Nathan a sidelong scowl from Ganabati and an excited look from Mr. Dink.

Noticing Ganabati's eyes on him, Nathan's grin widened on his face. Nathan subtly gestured to Mr. Dink's crooked nose and glasses.

'Make up your damn mind.' Ganabati knew Nathan probably hadn't even noticed his slip. 'You're either on my side, or you're on theirs.'

Nathan gnawed on his toffee while sniggering right along with Mr. Dink. He laced his fingers again in front of his mouth, bringing himself back under control with a return to his stoic demeanor.

"We have many other operations already showing promise in Africa and Eastern Europe in our ongoing efforts against Euro Britannia in Turkey. What positive interest, in your estimation Chief Andre, will splintering our efforts to include the current situation in China bring to Golden Company?" Director Caspari inquired in his nasally Frenchman's tone.

"It's for those very reasons you mentioned, Director Caspari, that I've decided to include Asian expansion into Golden Company's plans," Nathan answered, his voice booming despite his laced fingers obscuring his lips. He continued,

"Golden Company claims it's the largest, most prodigious mercenary company in the history of the world. However, since the end of the Russian-EU war 5 years ago, we've stooped to merely cleaning up the messes of our beloved EU, operating more as guard dogs to low-ranked despots and local officials by protecting them from barely armed local militias.

"Unless we want to end up just like the ancient knight orders with histories not much unlike Golden Company's we've been so frequently tasked lately to wipe from the face of the earth, we must begin producing more than just a little 'positive interest' for our stakeholders.

"Operations within Asia at this time are of paramount importance to numerous backers of ours within the EU, including our mutual friend, Maharajah Singh the Third, concerning who will inherit the role of Emperor or Empress of China."

Miss Body's fingers whirred over the keyboard.

All eyes rested on Director of Logistics, Director Caspari, the nationalistic fop whose own connections with Italy and the Church made him feel entitled to think himself all-seeing and all-knowing. The man acted like he possessed the eye of God himself while he schemed away for his own self-interests in the names of others, all without getting so much as a crumb on his 'Ermenegildo-something-or-other' suits.

Goldilocks probably had his man's suit tailored to his gangly body while getting himself a manicure and perm on one of his frequent trips to "relax" in Essex.

Just as Miss Body's typing slowed, Director Caspari looked up from the papers clenched in his soft hands at Nathan.

"Consider your comments regarding Golden Company's current state and our actions in relation to what you perceive to be our backer's apparent best interests duly noted, Chief Andre.

"Please keep in mind the fact that this entire proposal of yours and Mr. Ganabati's hinges on the upcoming conference Emperor Xiang is holding ending badly. I sincerely hope that all these considerations of yours in connection with the affairs of Asia don't end up going to waste."

Nathan, without faltering in the steady beating of his heel, responded in kind.

"The likelihood of anyone in attendance at the conference being able to achieve anything of merit in regards to quelling the unrest in China's southern regions and neighboring countries is a generous one percent.

"Many feeling threatened by China's actions in recent years aren't about to be pacified, and certainly not by some farce of a meeting among ineffectual elites. Consider India and our recent tryst with General Xinghe, for another example, and it doesn't stop there. Throw in all the pirating that goes on around Thailand, that China and Britannia have both taken an aggressive stance on, and you've got a pot of smoking oil that's about to catch fire and take the world along with it.

"And I want Golden Company to be right there when the world catches fire, getting first dibs on the glory while all the pretenders are left with nothing but scraps."

Ganabati absorbed the looks on the faces of the men around the table, all alight with their greed and in complete disregard for any stakes but those having to do with their own bankbooks.

'Greedy fucking white bastards. The "Council of Louis Friends" indeed. If they only knew how easy they were to manipulate, perhaps the whole world would be better off.'

Ganabati shifted in his seat.

How much longer were they going to keep him sitting in these goddamn uncomfortable chairs? Or did they just got a kick out of seeing him suited up like some street show monkey?

These useless meetings… didn't they understand the time to talk was over? They need to start moving as soon as possible to get ahead of the wave, not wait around until they're swept up in it.

Just sitting around, grinning from the sidelines… even if some of them had been halfway decent soldiers once, that's the only thing any of them knew how to do anymore. Golden Company may have once been founded on the golden rule, but now all it stood for was the golden rule which destroys everything but itself: the golden rule of ironfisted greed.

The soft aroma of patchouli reached Ganabati's huffing maw, calming the rage that always rose inside him whenever he found himself stuffed in this tiny cage of a boardroom.

Perhaps that was why he instantly to a liking to Miss Body when they first met, despite her being the sort of woman he never typically found himself attracted to: for the familiar scent she always wore and which reminded him of pleasanter days.

'Fuck the Newcastle piss to hell.' Ganabati wiped his sweaty brow, his rage suffusing with the mugginess of the room.

In his efforts to further subdue his temper, Ganabati took in a breath of air – but instead of the pleasant scent of patchouli, received an awful lungful of cigar smoke that made him bark like a gutter dog.

The gentle tap of a foot under the table got Ganabati's attention.

"Here," said the blonde woman conveniently seated beside Ganabati. She passed a lozenge from her skirt pocket to Ganabati beneath the table, bringing her hand uncomfortably close to his crotch.

She was the only one among the Golden Company higher-ups who could bear sitting beside any other than one of their own kind.

Madam Elizabeth Norwood, the only other Brit and woman in the room aside from Miss Body, was Nathan's direct superior as Golden Company's Director of Intelligence. Her professional smile and clean-cut suit and skirt attire little hid the aura of experience only possessed by those who'd waded in the gunky field among the seedy underworld's best. The stench stuck to a person like high-grade adhesive, regardless of whether they wore combat boots, converse shoes, or fashionable heels.

It wasn't her exotic looks that attracted him to her – Ganabati had seen more than enough pale women over the years for their charm to wear off long ago – but any man worth his balls couldn't help but do anything trying to catch the steely eye of a woman like her. Be they a revered King or a gutter rat, once Norwood had her eye on you, she'd have you strung along and spilling your guts in no time.

At least, until she put a 9mm bullet between your eyes.

And if what Nathan told him was true, Norwood was well worth the risk.

Not only was Norwood one hell of a woman and a soldier, but she treated Ganabati and Nathan both with equal respect, and recognized each of them for their superior capabilities in the field.

Ganabati gratefully accepted the lozenge. He didn't miss the piercing glare Norwood directed at Nathan when the man started fidgeting with a pen.

Nothing could hide anything from that burning gaze, not even Nathan's red sunglasses he insisted on wearing even in the dark room.

Nathan's foot stopped tapping and he set down the pen. He laced his gloved fingers together to the point Ganabati heard the fabric tauten.

Norwood analyzed the strategy report along with everyone else. She and the big-nosed Frenchman sitting in rather average business attire beside her – so average in fact, that it almost made him stand out in his averageness – Ganabati's direct superior and Director of Operations, Director Dubois, knew even before the meeting Nathan and Ganabati were presenting a sound strategy, a strategy formulated through the combined efforts of only the best of the best in Golden Company. Nathan wasn't Chief of Intelligence of Europe for nothing.

The only task remaining was for the other directors to provide their token stamps of approval. Only then could the real work resume.

Chief Director Leland, the one waving around his chopped Britannian cigar like some cheap cigarillo, was the only one left holding out.

A man with a sense of style even more outdated than old Mr. Dink's – probably one of the reasons Golden Company hadn't received a single renovation since he took the helm, but instead seemed to grow older and more out of touch with the rest of the world by the day – Leland wore his spotless suit and an off-yellow tie which matched only in their putrid ugliness.

'Wonder if anyone ever told him the best cigars are rolled by Indians?'

" _We_  trust that our expectations with the outcomes outlined in this operation, should it be given the go-ahead, will be met then Mr. Andre and Mr. Ganabati?" Director Leland said, the honeyed tone dripping from his widening lips. "And that you will keep  _us_  in the loop with any developments?"

'Who does he think he is, some Britannian Aristocrat?'

Ganabati held his breath when another puff of smoke billowed his direction.

"Of course, Chief Director," Nathan said, his foot slowly tapping a new divot in the floor. "In fact, I'd say the outcomes expected by everyone in this room today are generously small, given the certainty of the events we've presented to you today, and that our true potential gains from these operations far outreach what we've had time to forecast in this brief meeting today. Even the smallest confidence is most benevolent of you, in this short time we've had to detail our extensive upcoming plans of operation."

* * *

"That went about as expected," Ganabati said. He pulled off his tie and rolled his neck, cracking the bones to either side after being in there for another three hours due to Mr Dink wanting clarification on  _every_ part of what the operation would cost. "Fucking waste of time."

"We got what we needed. Whether the Directors actually trust or support us doesn't matter so long as we can keep operations moving forward." Nathan tapped the antique bust of some long-dead "famous" noble resting on a nearby pedestal with his cane.

Outside the dark, tucked-away meeting room where only those "privileged" enough were allowed to enter, a veritable parade of priceless – or rather, expensive – artifacts, paintings, and other relics lined the Golden Company's extensive, red-carpeted halls.

A brick rumored to be from Wressle Castle, removed from the estate by a member of House Percy to prevent the now-ruined castle from falling entirely into the hands of the Nevilles.

A pietra serena pedestal with meticulous geometric designs on its backside and a hastily plastered-over front, displaying a medal by Bertoldo di Giovanni commemorating the steadfast resilience of the Medici in their fight against the Pazzi…. to which the GC had switched sides during the conflict according to Nathan. A true example of mercenary activities as Niccolò would put it. Personally Ganabati never cared for the overrated views of the man or other westerners who arrogantly think they can lecture anyone.

Innumerable flags both musty and new – with the most recent additions being those of the Bradow's ex-Britannian coat of arms, and the Malcal's Ottoman-inspired insignia – lined the gilded hallway, their polished hanging rods sparkling in the ample sunlight pouring through the outer wall's gigantic arched windows.

Two suits of peerless medieval-style armor stood guard over the elevator with axe and sword in hand.

"Wonder when they got their hands on these," Nathan whistled. He looked the suits up and down. "And not a single scratch on either of 'em."

Ganabati pressed the downward elevator button.

_Ch-dun._

The elevator's gears clunked into motion.

_Whrrrrrrrr…_

"They're probably about as legitimate as any of the other toys decorating these halls," Ganabati belched. He thudded his fist over his chest and tried clearing the persistent gunk from his throat.

_Ting!_

The squeaky elevator doors sidled open.

Nathan followed Ganabati into the open-window elevator.

The agonizingly slow elevator creaked and clunked like it might fall any second. But even the chance of death was worth this rarely-used elevator's refreshing view of London and the many towers piercing its wide blue sky.

The Golden Company could make as many claims to history as it wanted, but it was timeless views like these, as everyday as they were magnificent, which made true history.

Even with areas of the city still in tatters, with sections still cordoned off after a series of poison gas and sakuradite bombings during the EU-Russia war, Ganabti remembered seeing the pictures of children's eyes burning out, blinded or lungs filling up with. The number of under five year olds admitted to hospital with Sakuradite poisoning had shot through the roof in the years since then. Though none of that had compared to what Ganabti had seen in the Ukraine and Poland during the war.

Nevertheless, the people of London were their own proof of the city's resiliency, living each day in a city not many would argue was anything but the UK's beating heart.

Stately and historic buildings stood beside their sleek new neighbors. As always, the city forged ahead through the ages, persevering through the bombardments of war and reappearing from the smog of coal-fired prosperity into the clean-aired present of a sakuradite-fueled world.

Ganabati noticed how one level had a key mechanic locked in, apparently only the highest members of the Golden Company had access to it.

Nathan pressed down on several floor's buttons at once, and triggered a small light above the ancient panel to flash from orange to green.

The elevator doors squealed and sputtered slowly together, and caught frequently on their rusted wheels. Just as they were about to finally come together…

"Hold the elevator!" A female voice called.

Both Ganabati and Nathan automatically obliged the call. They stuck their hands in the tiny crack and forced the tired doors open again.

"Thanks," Madam Norwood said. She awkwardly stepped foot onto the elevator in her bare sheer stockings. Norwood dangled her pair of tan high heels – both terribly scuffed and one with a broken heel – each by a finger.

"Madam Norwood," Nathan and Ganabati both stepped aside, making room for her in the center of the elevator.

"Consider yourselves lucky you're men," Norwood sighed. She unapologetically eyed the two men's footwear. "These shoes cost five times more than a pair of tactical boots," she said. The elevator doors clattered shut behind her. "You'd think they'd last more than a single footrace against a bunch of mouthy lads. Let's see them try calling me a bus wanker when I'm wearing my Spetsnaz…"

Nathan spat out a laugh, nearly losing his sunglasses in the process. Ganabati suppressed himself from chuckling.

"You find something funny about that Nathan?" Norwood bumped her hip against Nathan, effectively shutting him up when she then refused to back off.

Ganabati would've laughed himself at Madam Norwood's quick check of Nathan; the man could use a second person in his life reminding him not to be so quick to laugh at others' misfortunes.

He would've laughed, that is, were it not for the way Nathan seemed so shook by the sudden contact.

"Aren't you meeting up with your daughter on the way home Liz?" Nathan tried changing the subject.

"She'll have to learn tactical ops soon enough," Norwood responded. She backed away just enough for Nathan to regain some small amount of his composure.

"Especially with all the protesting and social politics she likes to engage in. Though it's thankfully filled filth not as abominable as the ones during the strikes years ago."

"Yeah, the north remembers that all too well." Nathan quietly said as he looked away to where Big Ben could be seen from across the riverway, the chime of it hitting.

Nathan stood rigidly still with his hands clasped tightly over his cane. Ganabati found it interesting that the cane was a military banter Regiment of Sussex cane. He noticed Norwood had raise a eyebrow at it once or twice in the past. It obviously meant something to Nathan for him to wield it around so openly.

"There were only seven of them." Norwood swung the pair of heels on her fingers. "Two Norwood women should be more than enough to bring a group of bawdy lads down a few notches."

The glittering open sky of London grew ever more distant and dark as the elevator sank below the horizon of rooftops.

"I don't doubt either of you in the slightest," Norwood commented. "You're both capable men. Aside from those honeyed plans you presented back there to my fellow directors, what's your real goal in all this?" Norwood looked specifically at Nathan,

"I want to hear it from you again. That you aren't betting the entirety of the EU and Britain's already precarious future in pursuit of solely your own goals."

"Every word I said in the meeting was true," Nathan responded. "We can't risk overlooking the situation in China like Golden Company did with the Britannians back when they left the Russian war behind and joined with Euro Britannia.

"London may have rebounded quickly, it always does thanks to the M25 elites like the other Directors constantly throwing their money around, but our comrades in Paris and Berlin struggle even harder with the damage they took that makes London's look tame. Not to mention the countless small boroughs in the North and smaller countries within the EU still struggling with the war's fallout today.

Ganabati jerked his head back in agreement.

Plenty of Ganabati's men had families in areas still in tatters after the war. As a father himself (his daughter was studying in Paris), he sympathized with their struggle to put food on the table, and did his best making sure they all had plenty of work to keep them on Golden Company's payroll.

Certainly it irked some in the Company – particularly Mr. Dink – to see so many jobs consistently filled by men with last names like Kapoor and Sudha, but so long as they got the job done, Director Dubois was more than content to continue hiring men with Ganabati's recommendation.

"But if we can gain a foothold in China, we can arrange trade deals with them on their resources and restore the entire EU to true prosperity unlike anything anyone's ever seen before…"

"That prosperity won't be restricted to just the EU," Ganabati interrupted Nathan's eurocentric tangent.

Whenever the man got talking about the people of the North in particular, Nathan tended to preach on and on until someone reminded him there were others who struggled just as much, even more.

"India and its people have just as much to regain by bringing the EU and China to the same side," Ganabati noted.

"Right," Nathan nodded. He glanced at his cane through his red-tinted sunglasses. "Operations will also give us plenty of leverage in Japan, with the Sumeragi's and other Kyoto Houses, even more so if the rumors that I have heard from Akira in Tokyo about Sumeragi Natsumi might be considering running for PM. Imagine it Liz, you could be crowning a new era in Asia. That will show up the old gits club at your former home of SIS." Nathan said silviery.

"An Empress in China and a Female Prime Minister in Japan," Norwood mumbled. She grinned.

"I like the sound of that."

"And thankfully, neither one is a witch," Nathan spat. "Once we have greater access to valuable resources like sakuradite, steel without going through complicated imports with Euro Britannia-allied regions, more funding can go to other needs and increase quality of life for even the most marginalized citizens and our allies."

"The trickle-down effect," Norwood sighed. She leaned her shoulders against the glass wall. Norwood waved to a raggedy child eyeing the elevator from the street. "Everything's happening so fast lately, government policy just can't keep up."

"I trust you'll take the steps necessary to ensure they do Liz," Nathan commented. "I already have my contacts in the Houses of Parliament and Lords doing what they can to ensure everything will be in place to funnel funding where it needs to go once resources begin flowing in. But we'll need far more people on our side to ensure things don't get stopped up in the South."

"These things take time Nathan," Norwood shook her head. "This isn't as simple as dealing with a bunch of snot-nosed street urchins."

"As far as I'm concerned, even the most wretched street urchin in the North is worth more than a dozen Southerners content to sit around bemoaning their tea coming five minutes late."

If only Nathan realized how much his constant bemoaning the condition of the North made him sound exactly like the very pompous and entitled Southerners he despised.

In fact, Nathan was even worse. While many like Ganabati fully understood the necessity of wiling the time in wait for their tea to cool, Nathan always made it plainly obvious he wanted nothing less than to down his straight from the piping kettle.

The elevator reached ground-level, trading the street view of London for a concrete wall.

"And what about you, Mr. Ganabati?" Norwood narrowed her sharp eyes on Ganabati. "I'm sure your meeting with the Singh's today is for no mere afternoon tea."

"While many in India do enjoy chatting over their British teas, many more prefer spending their lazy afternoons enriching their souls in meditation and prayer," Ganabati replied.

"Regardless of how a man chooses to spend his afternoons, what makes you and the Maharajah think India can regain its freedom and not be swallowed right up again?" Norwood pressed.

"Nothing outlined in these reports is foolproof assurance you'll have the strong allies necessary to preserve India's independence should the country come back under local rule."

"You need not worry yourself over us, Madam Norwood. With India backing Hui Ying as Empress over her Warmongering brother, if the rumors are true in her father stepping down at the confidence, our long-awaited independence is assured."

"Your confidence is as infectious as it is admirable Mr. Ganabati," Madam Norwood chuckled.

"The confidence of a drunkard may be infectious, but it's hardly admirable," Nathan rejoinded, poking his cane at Ganabati's girth. "Good thing you're so dark, or your red cheeks would've given you away. What sort of man gets drunk on two Newcastle Browns?"

"Must be something in the Thames conditioning your English livers over the last few thousand years," Ganabati threw back. "Nothing so foul could ever come from Ganges water."

"Ever since Sakuradite took over for coal, the Thames actually has become fair bit more pleasant. A little silty and often a dumping ground for fly tippers, but pollution is nowhere near as bad as it once was," Norwood added. "If only we could make some headway on supplementing refined sakuradite with hydroelectricity on the way to other more renewable sources of energy…"

The elevator reached the very bottom of the deep shaft, and began its squealing, laborious opening.

"You're meeting with Smilas next. We'll need him working seamlessly with us to ensure things move smoothly forward into the next stage," Norwood said. She inched closer to Nathan, but slowly enough that she didn't take him by surprise.

She set her free pink talon tailored hand on his forearm.

"Operations aside, how is my best operative doing Nathan?"

"I'm fine," Nathan assured her. He tightened his fingers around his cane. His deeply scarred cheeks made his slightly downturned lips appear no different from a wide grin.

Madam Norwood frowned. "Is that so?"

'Fucking idiot. What's the point trying to keep a secret from your superior, especially when she's Director of Intelligence?'

Nathan, apparently sensing the mood correctly for once, loosened his grip on his cane.

Ganabati's hulking frame blocked the inside of the elevator from view in the brief moment Nathan brushed his hand over Madam Norwood's on their way out.

"I'm fine Liz," Nathan mumbled. "Truly."

"If you insist," Norwood whispered back. "But if you ever want to chat, my door's always open."

* * *

While the Golden Company's aboveground presentation was one of a proud company with a storied past, what the trio encountered once they emerged from the elevator was a world completely unconcerned with preservation of ancient relics and artefacts.

Gone were the stale air and mouldering walls, replaced by the whirring of industrial fans and silvery metal sheeting.

This was a world dead-set on being the origins of what would become the latest in cutting-edge technology unlike anything since the industrial revolution.

The aromas of iron and oil permeated every corner of the large room. Hydraulics hissed and wheels turned.

Slightly outdated Europa Mechanica M-17 Workloader frames hefted gigantic crates stuffed with the latest in robotic advancements – everything from huge mechanical arms to rocket launcher-sized handguns – between the varied assembly lines and testing areas of the department.

Men's voices echoed off the metal sheeted walls. They were barely understandable amid the din of mechanized activity.

That is to say, Nathan and Norwood couldn't understand them. But Ganabati…

"Arrey, Ganabati!"

One of the engineers shouted in greeting at the trio currently being swept along to their destination by a conveyor belt walkspace that moved at a convenient .58 meters per second. The man thrust his blackened wrench in the air, prompting Ganabati to respond in kind.

"Arrey, Raje!"

The man with the wrench jumped down from an opening in the sleek, boxy machine he stood on.

Inside the shell of steel numerous buttons, knobs, levers and a small monitor were centralized around a rather comfortable looking chair.

The Golden Company, misers with anything other than what they themselves saw as an asset or way to show off their wealth, opted for a more modern, less comfortable interior design for the pilot's pod. It was on Ganabati's insistence, however, that more comfortable chairs were put to use. If users of the next-generation frames were expected to put their lives on the line for the Company, the least the Company could do was provide them with a decent working space.

The man with the wrench shouted a series of orders to those nearby, prompting everyone to pack up and clear out the area around the glittering pod.

"What'd he say?" Nathan glanced over his shoulder at Ganabati.

"They're ready to install the assembled pod in its frame."

"Where's the frame?" Nathan looked around. Only pieces and parts of what would supposedly become a next-generation war frame – an idea that only recently gained any real traction outside Britannia – lie in sight.

"We'll see it before we reach the Intel Department," Ganabati pointed in the direction the moving sidewalk led.

Before Ganabati could even finish, Nathan smoothly hopped over the sidewalk rails.

"There he goes," Madam Norwood commented. She shifted on her feet. "It's days like these I'm glad I always keep a pair of boots in my office."

Nathan made a beeline for the nearest M-17. He hopped up into the machine alongside its usual operator, and in seconds had it moving with the precision of a seasoned professional.

He followed the instructions of the engineers to the letter and safely transported the pod to its destination where the conveyor belt sidewalk came to an end.

'The man's skilled,' Ganabati nodded with pride and stepped off the end of the moving sidewalk.

Thankfully no one needed to tell Nathan it took more than skill enough to operate a workloader to properly align the pod in its frame. Nathan swooped down from the M-17's cockpit, and an engineer took his place in the operator's chair.

"Can't wait to give these next gens a try," Nathan whistled. He swung his cane in circles, betraying a boyish excitement for once befitting of his age.

"Keep hopping around like a rabbit and you might end up needing to use that cane first," Ganabati guffawed.

"Not before you, old timer," Nathan quipped in return.

The trio arrived at a reinforced door in the solid metal wall. Embedded in the wall were a keypad, swipe slot, and a scanner.

Madam Norwood reached into her skirt pocket and produced a lanyard with an attached keycard.

She swiped the card through the slot. One of three tiny LEDs lit up beside the handle of the door.

Norwood placed her hand on the palm scanner. After a flash of green light, another tiny light beside the door's handle flashed on.

She finished by punching an impossibly long series of dozens and dozens of numbers into the keypad faster than Ganabati could count, much less ever hope to remember.

The third light flashed green.

A series of  _click_ s,  _clatter_ s, and  _thunk_ s sounded while the secure door unfastened its many locks.

" _Bweep-bweep-bweep_ ," Nathan mimicked the sound of a failed pin entry, a sound Ganabati was plenty familiar with.

"Those are some nice cowboy boots," Ganabati noted. "Would be a damn shame if they were to get full of vomit with your feet still in 'em," Ganabati didn't bother holding back his gurgling belch.

"Need I remind you two to act civilized in your meeting with Smilas?" Madam Norwood turned the door's handle, but didn't push the door open.

"That's pretty rich coming from a woman who chases lads down while wearing high heels," Nathan chuckled.

"I've done a lot more in heels than chase down lads," Norwood responded, her amiable smiling face turning upside down. She glared daggers into Nathan's sunglasses. "I don't need to demonstrate, do I?"

"Check yourself," Ganabati nudged Nathan with his elbow to remind him of who he was speaking to. Nathan always got cheeky whenever he became too giddy.

Finally noticing himself, Nathan folded his fingers tight over his cane, regaining his controlled composure in an instant.

"No Ma'am," Nathan said. His voice lost its earlier giddiness and turned cold and hard as steel.

"I want you two to take a moment to compose yourselves before meeting with Smilas," Madam Norwood advised. "Alright?" Her dark expression relaxed into a cheery smile, and she pushed open the door.

Just as when they disembarked from the elevator, an altogether new scene greeted the trio.

The industrial look of the Development Department gave way to that of a simple reception area with a frosted door to the rear. It wasn't unlike what one would see walking into any run-of-the-mill office building.

With the door shut behind them completely blocking the noise from outside, the soothing sound of Mozart took over and completed the illusion of blasé normalcy.

"Madam Norwood," a woman sitting at the reception desk nodded to the three. She pressed a buzzer, and the pair of tempered, frosted glass doors at the rear of the room slid smoothly open.

Beyond the doors was another room which instantly broke the spell.

"… _Princess of China, currently en route to…"_

"…  _without the support of Labor Unions which their forebears…"_

"…  _Bradow von Breisgau, a proponent of guaranteed rights for asylum seekers and defectors from Brtiannia…"_

"…  _still reeling from Black Tuesday…"_

"…  _one everyone's minds is: 'What will be the response of Britannia to…"_

"…  _the rampant rise in illicit drug use among youth demographic in the UK…"_

"…  _possible expansion on oversight of Euroforce, judicial law and the Council of Forty is being contested…"_

"…  _the housing market continues to suffer in Liverpool and most of Northern England with interest rates yet to recover from Black Tuesday…"_

A circle of televisions each set to a different news channel, some spouting languages other than English, voiced the concerns of dozens of countries all at once to the room's occupants who either scurried around in whispering haste, or sat plunking away at their computer keyboards.

Everyone was on the move, except for a rather pudgy, short woman with off-blonde hair tied in a spiraling bun. Her skin glowed with just a hint of islander brown, perhaps from one of her prideful forebears once falling to exotic temptation, only to end up permanently marring the family tree.

Her steady gaze hung over a single television displaying a video of who Ganabati already accepted as China's future Empress, Hui Ying, at a conference earlier in the year.

"How's Sumeragi's stock looking Elena?" Nathan called out.

Without taking her eyes off Hui Ying, the pudgy woman responded, "Sumeragi and Kururugi stock are both falling. Sumeragi's is looking particularly bad."

"Damn." Nathan scratched the back of his head. "I'm gonna' swing by the loo," Nathan said.

"Now's the best time to invest if you mean to poise yourself for their rebound," Elena advised. She removed her eyes from the television only once Hui Ying flashed off the screen, and the topic switched to sport news.

"Thanks Elena," Nathan waved back at her. "Be back in a minute Ganabati. Looks like there's fresh coffee," he added, hinting for Ganabati to wait.

" _In other news, Newcastle reigned victorious over Mumbai…"_

'Damn Newcastle.'

"Take all the time you need," Ganabati grumbled. He turned his nose toward the aroma of the fresh brew. The inviting scent filled him with just enough energy to slog over to the pot and pour himself a piping hot cup.

'Tastes like mud. I'd rather have some of Balaprada's spiced tea.'

"The meeting went just as expected," Madam Norwood told Elena. She handed Elena a data disc. "Here's that additional background information you asked for on Hui Ying. At this point there's not a thing we don't know about her. We could prepare a perfect double, right down to the size of her shoes, if necessary."

"Thank you Director Norwood. This information will be a great help," Elena accepted the disc with both hands and whisked it over to her computer.

Pinned upon the walls beneath the televisions were maps, documents, and photos of various persons of interest. They were displayed in a way which presented the larger picture at a glance to those who knew the significance of each piece to the puzzle. No one photo stood out, except for two, the first being a portrait-size, gilt-framed image of Hui Ying, centrally located before Elena's workstation.

Just as her portrait loomed over everything, Hui Ying rested at the center of all, the point on which the upcoming fate of the world would turn.

The other was one of a familiar russian from the Battle of St Petersburg and from Afghanistan, one Ex-Major Vasili Laptev of Russian intel, Ganabati had remembered how greedy the twat was for selling out his rivals position and safehouses in exchange for being spared, dining at what looked like a Tokyo restaurant with some tattoo wearing japanese persona. With additional photos of him and his men being thrown out on his arse. Rumors he had heard was that, like many Russians in the army and intel had turned to crime after the end of the war. No surprise a grubber like Vasili had made his way into the Hotel Business.

Minutes later, just as Ganabati downed the last few drops of his coffee, Nathan returned.

"Sobered up enough?" Nathan commented with a sly grin.

"Think you'll be able to keep it together?" Ganabati set down his cup beside the coffee maker.

"It'll be fine," Nathan smirked. He wiped his hand on his trousers as the two men left the operations room behind and returned to the reception room. "I think I'll have Lucious help us out."

"I'd refuse having that snake coiled around my shoulders even if it wasn't a fucking stereotype."

The two men left the bustling operation room behind and returned to the reception room.

"Mr. Smilas is waiting for you in your office, Chief Andre," the receptionist said. She pressed a buzzer, and the lock on a side door clicked.

Nathan swung the door open, and led the way down the long, narrow hallway.

'Why do the English fancy narrow spaces so much?' Just standing in the doorway made Ganabati feel claustrophobic in his own skin.

"You must admit though, you look even more intimidating with Lucius around your shoulders!" Nathan's scarred cheeks made his smile look even larger. He twirled his cane in one hand.

'Perhaps I could," Ganabati amused himself with the thought.

Although it pleased Ganabati to know Nathan enjoyed putting Lucius to use both for his own sake and in meetings to get a read on others, Ganabati himself despised the feeling of that snake sliding its scales over his skin, right along with Nathan's tendency to perch the creature on Ganabati's "magnificent frame."

Still, Ganabati had to admit: he found it amusing recalling the ashen faces of those who took in the image of a hulking Indian like him with a cobra hanging on his arms while they let their minds run wild.

But with Singh set to arrive soon, the last thing Ganabati wanted was for his saviors to catch sight of Ganabati perpetuating a stereotype.

"Perhaps next time," Ganabati said. He released the door behind him, expecting it to catch on the mechanism that would close the door smoothly.

However, for some reason the door didn't catch behind Ganabati, and instead slammed into its frame.

_BANG!_

Something clattered on the bare floor and grabbed Ganabati's attention.

Ganabati looked ahead to find Nathan frozen halfway down the hallway with his hands clasped tightly over his ears. Nathan's cane and sunglasses lay on the floor beside his feet. His breathing echoing across loudly.

"Apologies," Ganabati said. He carefully walked up behind Nathan and picked up his cane and sunglasses.

"Damn cheap Britannian door stoppers," Nathan hissed. He removed his shaky hands from his ears. "Wouldn't even need them installed if they just made all the doors motion-sensing or button-operated like I told them." Nathan took back his sunglasses from Ganabati. He wiped the lenses and frame meticulously clean on his trousers before putting them on. "Goddamn fire codes my arse…"

* * *

"Again, I'd like to thank you for meeting with us today on such short notice. I imagine it was difficult breaking away from your military duties, however, I wanted to update you on where things stand now that the Directors here at Golden Company have been brought onto the same page," Nathan said. He sat at his desk, posed with his hands folded in front of his lips exactly like in the meeting with the Directors.

If only that weren't the only similarity, Ganabati inwardly sighed.

While the Directors spared little expense flaunting themselves and their money to others, Nathan's preferences rested on the opposite side of the coin.

Nathan furnished his office cheaply, with plywood shelves and a thin desk. The only things on his desk were a tin of Uncle Joe's Mint Balls, a favorite of Nathan's, which Ganabati found interesting that they were from a town most foreigners never heard or knew of according to the tin as he checked at one time Nathan was not in his office. The town that is Wigan, of the northerner tour Nathan had once taken him on of the cities and towns, Wigan was not one of them.

'I wonder… what is that town to you Nathan.'

A scratched lamp that looked like it belonged in a dumpster. To save time and space, instead of the hard, sturdy, hand-carved chairs the Directors preferred, Nathan put to use twig-legged folding chairs which made Ganabati hesitate to seat himself.

However, despite how cheaply Nathan furnished his office, that didn't make it barren by any means.

Countless books (some had been given to Nathan by Mr Ken what was along with himself, The merc mentor to Nathan, during one of their merc tours in Southern Asia and tour in Russia), artefacts of truly priceless value, collected by Nathan himself during his wide travels, were meticulously shelved around the room. Of these many artefacts, an ancient statue of the Celtic goddess Danu (Ganabti found it most peculiar that Nathan worshipped a Celtic god, considering his name and background all pointed to him being Saxon), a framed and slightly discolored wrestling poster of Oboro Iga and Saburo Kirihara vs Dai Wagashi and The Beast from the East, A bronze plaque with the quote written on 'I know that I know nothing.'

Final item, a lavishly adorned portrait of Lady Queen Elizabeth the First were among the few items Nathan would call his most "prized possessions. Ganabati had caught Nahan staring at it for up to an hour once time. Not moving his body at all as she stared at it.

While these many mainly old trinkets gave the room a somewhat musty and aged smell, there was one glaringly current thing in Nathan's office, something he spared no expense on when he had it installed…

Almost an entire wall of glass displayed what appeared to be a slice of Indian jungle, with a newly installed electric sliding door off to one side. Bright heat lights lit a single open space in the terrarium and kept the interior at a balmy and humid interior temperature perfect for its main inhabitant, Lucius, who rested lazily on a hot stone with his full and bulging belly.

'I admire your determination to spend only on things you deem worthwhile, however, for a man who is Chief of Intelligence of Europe to meet with a Colonel of the EU's army over such a shoddy desk while Lucius sups on imported mice makes me question your priorities somewhat.'

"It's no trouble. I happened to be in the area for another meeting in regards to a request for military aid in policing more devastated areas surrounding London, so this fit quite well into my schedule," Smilas said.

Colonel Gene Smilas, a proper Brit if Ganabati ever saw one, presented himself in his uniform in a manner befitting a man of such esteemed accomplishments. His presence as star pupil of the Greeks made him a well-known representative among the European military, only serving to further elucidate what sort of man could emerge from the messy Russian-EU war with such a resounding record of success. Hair and facial trimmed like a dutiful soldier.

In the presence of such a tried-and-true soldier and proper diplomat, Ganabati couldn't help but feel just a twinge of displeasure at how Nathan presented himself. Ganabati knew Nathan could present himself better, however, while he took advice on how to dress himself proper, the man simply refused to listen to reason when it came to his personal tastes in furnishing and décor.

The Lieutenant Colonel, Romero, Ganabati was certain that is his name. Standing at nervous attention beside Smilas glanced now and then at Lucius, whenever the snake so much as blissfully twitched its tail. Tears sweat visible over his forehead despite the peak cap he was wearing that had the crest of the EU on it.

'If a sleeping snake behind a wall of glass is all it takes to put you on edge, you're at the end of your advancement in the military.'

"Did you agree to the Lord Mayor's request?" Nathan raised an eyebrow.

"Certainly not," Smilas shook his head and chuckled. "Shooting down civilians trying to escape more impoverished areas is what's gotten the military into the position we are now, where we're told to abandon our guard against Britannia to protect frightened leaders from their own dissatisfied people."

'A familiar story,' Ganabati glanced at Nathan. 'Without the military or organizations like Golden Company to protect them, perhaps leaders might finally start acting in their people's best interests again instead of merely thinking of their own.'

"Operations are going just as smoothly as expected, thanks to the connections of Golden Company," Smilas nodded. "Your introduction to Bradow has yielded a fine friendship. The man shares so much in what we believe the EU should be."

"I thought you two seemed like you'd find you're of similar minds. I'm sure he and Claudia are enjoying having the White Wolf as their home again. Not bad for a family that left their home and people to dry for nearly 200 years." Nathan said as the tone of his voice made clear of his thought.

Ganabati just rolled his eyes on another of Nathan's enlightened comments on nobles. Gene acted like he only head the first part of the rant.

"Indeed." Smilas grinned. "I'm quite impressed with how things have proceeded. It's uncommon to find men with a mind and capabilities like yours who are also willing to work with the military for no compensation."

"I'm glad to be working with a man of your caliber. Fighting alongside you in the final battle in Moscow, your help in Afghanistan with the Spetsnaz, and... in Romania as well…" Nathan trailed off a bit, his eyes for a moment flashing with hatred and disgust beneath his glasses. Ganabati knew that look. What they saw that day… the sight of those kids. Few people could stomach it. It certainly left him with a few restless nights when Nathan yelled out in the barracks. And he thought he had seen enough to make him immune to such thoughts.

"All I ask in exchange is that you continue working with us, and convince your superiors it's in their best interests to do the same," Nathan said.

"I'm honored to continue working alongside you for as long as possible," Smilas said. "I'm too indebted to you at this point to even consider refusing." He offered Nathan his hand.

'Don't make a fool of yourself,' Ganabati watched Nathan hesitate.

Before Smilas could notice Nathan's hesitation, a rapping at the door grabbed everyone's attention.

A moment later, the mechanical door slid open and revealed Elena standing at the other side.

"Chief Andre, Priestess Kayci is on the line," Elena said. "I have her waiting on call in Room 11."

"Kayci!" Nathan swiftly rose from his seat.

Ganabati and Nathan weren't expecting to hear from her just yet; it put them in a rather tight spot.

"I see you're a busy man," Smilas observed, standing up. "If we're done here the Lieutenant Colonel and I can get out of your way –"

"Come along, Colonel," Nathan beckoned his hand. "She will want to talk to you as well. Ganabati, let's –"

Ganabati was just about to follow after Smilas, Nathan, and the Lieutenant Colonel, but stopped in his tracks when the flowery scent of rosewater wafted into his nostrils.

He didn't need Elena to announce the arrival of their other guests.

"Maharajah Singh and his wife have arrived to meet with you as well, I can have them wait if you'd like," Elena offered.

"Chief Andre, you can fill me in later on your meeting with the princess," Ganabati looked at Nathan. "It would be rude to ask either Kayci or the Maharajah and his wife to wait."

Nathan and Ganabati knew they couldn't afford to ask either party to wait for the other.

"Alright Ganabati," Nathan nodded. "I should be back within a half hour."

'Good. That should be plenty of time.' Ganabati didn't want to come off as rude diving straight into business talk with the Maharajah without at least offering a proper reception first.

With that, Nathan and Smilas left the room to go speak with the priestess.

In their place, a cacao-skinned man who radiated the sort of authority and power an Emperor of Britannia could only wish to possess, stepped into Nathan's office.

Dressed in a deep mauve bandhgala decorated with a fine and subtle swirling embroidery, the man stood with a straight back which seemed of the sort that would never bend to wield a cane regardless of how many years might pass. His well-managed beard bespoke of a wise and wholesome life deeply seated in tradition, while at the same time his manner of dress hinted at a conjugant union with the wider world.

A man like this could be none other than the exiled Maharajah, Dalip Singh.

"Namaste," Ganabati mumbled. He brought his hands together before him and lowered his head. The Maharajah greeted Ganabati similarly with pressed-together hands, however, without bowing.

"It is good seeing you again, Ganabati," Singh spoke in his distinguished voice.

"I am well. I trust you are in good health? " Ganabati said in return.

"I am in good health thank you for asking, though looking forward to the scenario of us finally returning to our home after decades away from it." Singh responded.

Such simple smalltalk as this would only frustrate the focused Nathan, yet it filled Ganabati with joy to speak with the one man he held such high esteem since first meeting the man in his youth. It pleased Ganabati immensely that he could assist his savior in achieving his goals of a triumphant return to an independent India so many years after he received the great man's merciful aid.

"Thank you for your assistance Miss Burgin," spoke a soft, feminine voice.

"It's no problem at all Mrs. Singh," Elena responded to the woman who then entered the room.

A woman embodying the fullness of Indian beauty, the Maharajah's wife, Balaprada Singh. The part of her dark hair glowed bright with sindoor powder, and a perfectly round bindi in the same color decorated the smooth skin of her forehead.

In her elegant plum-mauve sari perfectly tailored to her willowing form, she moved with grace and refinement in excess of even her husband's. Into her hair she tucked what looked to Ganabati to be nothing less than a fresh picked peony he remembered fondly from the garden around the Maharajah's residence.

Ganabati also noticed the several rings on her fingers, each displaying an auspicious stone. The stones also perfectly matched in hue and shade to the refined colors of the fine hand-embroidery which decorated the border of her sari and blouse. Embroidery patterns which, Ganabati now noted, also matched Singh's bandhgala.

Balaprada formed the example to his ideal, the one woman in all the world which no other woman had yet to match. None had yet to come even remotely close to her in their refinement, or their simmering tenacity.

"Namaste," Ganabati greeted Balaprada with a bow. She greeted him in return, however without bringing her hands completely together due to holding a small, embroidered silk bundle in her bejewelled hands.

"I hope you do not think it imprudent of me to bring both tea and a gift." Balaprada said. She proceeded to Nathan's desk where she set down her bundle. She untied the top and revealed a small thermos, four cups, and another small, silk packet inside. "I see Nathan won't be joining us?"

"Nathan will be along later on," Ganabati responded.

Balaprada opened the thermos, and instantly Nathan's office filled with the milky, spiced aroma of Ganabati's upbringing, a scent which could be smelled on nearly any street corner of India at all times of day.

"My, but they certainly seem to be making quite the bit of progress assembling the frames," Balaprada noted. "I do hope they live up to expectation." She presented Singh and Ganabati both with two steaming cups of hearty hazelnut-colored spiced tea infinitely better than anything the Brits "famous" for their teas could even comprehend.

'If only Nathan had a taste for anything other than sweets,' Ganabati took an appreciative sip of the tea which instantly cleared his head and filled his belly with calming warmth.

"It's such a shame how Nathan neglects to fill us in with more detail in his reports," Balaprada sighed. "We want to help you both, yet he makes things more difficult than needed with all the running around he does without keeping us in mind. I taught him better than to be coy with us."

"The man doesn't do business the Indian way," Singh commented. He took a leisurely sip of his tea. "It's one of many reasons he and Golden Company have been so useful to us."

"Nathan's a lot more than useful. There's a reason I asked you to take him in." Ganabati said. He barely lowered his empty cup before Balaprada refilled it. "Because of him, you have your life today. A debt like that can't simply be forgotten."

"Certainly not," Balaprada added. "It was our hope he'd turn out to be as much of an asset as you told us he had the potential to become when we maneuvered the two of you toward Golden Company. To which thankfully, he has been with all the lessons and touch I gave him myself. Same with you Ganabati, your work has been vital to the continuing resistance against Brtiannia all these years."

"It's all gone quite as we'd hoped, hasn't it?" Singh nodded, stroking his beard. "It's too bad Nathan didn't get along better with Miss Bhai. I owed her father a bit of a favour. It pains me Nathan had such a promising young woman dismissed without considering what an inconvenience it would be for me. Either way, i can always extract something from him down the line for the hassle he caused there."

Ganabati winced.

Ganabati was glad Nathan wasn't in the room to hear this. Whenever anyone brought up Greenback Jane, he tended to go off on a tangent about what a "waste of time and money" she was for constantly missing deadlines, going over budget or how rude and insufferable she was. Ganabati always stuck up for Jane telling Nathan she was worth the extra inconvenience, but once they really butted heads, Jane was just as happy to leave "for a better opportunity" with "people who would really appreciate her skill" as Nathan was for her to leave.

"Nathan doesn't know this, but I still contact Miss Bhai from time to time for smaller projects as needed. She's been of particular assistance in our dealings with the Germans," Ganabati revealed. He went on without thinking, "Apparently she's gone and engaged herself to some Britannian expatriate she met in Thailand, won't stop blathering about it whenever I contact her."

"Really?" Balaprada gasped. Her dark eyes widened, showing the pearly whites around her irises. "I wonder if the man her father arranged for her knows?"

Ganabati winced again.

The last thing Ganabati wanted was to become the intermediary for the Bhais in calling their willful daughter back home to live a more traditional life.

"And how was the football game?" Balaprada inquired. She brought the thermos to Ganabati and filled his empty cup once more. "Did you enjoy yourselves?"

Ganabati noted the way Balaprada asked. The impromptu Newcastle versus Mumbai game was her doing, after all.

It was an everyday enough question, one Nathan certainly wouldn't think twice about if he heard it on one of his recorders.

"Newcastle won out, but it was an enjoyable game nonetheless," Ganabati replied. He reached into his suit's inner pocket and produced a thin data drive. He downed his tea in one gulp, and handed both the cup and drive to Balaprada at once.

One couldn't be too careful. Nathan might've had video cameras set up somewhere too along with all those renovations he did for Lucius terrarium, after all.

"That's wonderful. It was enjoyable getting to know some of the local in Newcastle, Nathan's friends, Martin and Alex regaled me about the city's history well enough. Not to mention seeing the support for the poorest residences from the Newcastle supporters is something I certainly see lacking from their counterparts down in London." Balaprada said.

"Looks like we're out of tea." She slipped the data drive into her silk bag along with the thermos and Ganabati and Singh's cups.

Small talk continued among the trio for nearly an hour until...

Without warning, the entrance to Nathan's office slid opened as Nathan came practically skipping in as he shunted his phone in his pocket.

"Callooh Callay Ganabati, you never guess what Kaci and Sancho had… Whoops." He stopped when he noticed whom was in the room.

Singh raised a cough, while Balprada raised an eyebrow at the interruption. Tapping her fingers on the table as she waited for Nathan to do the thing they expect from him every time they meet.

"Ah yes right… Namaste Mahjarah Singh, Namaste Maharani Balaprada " Nathan spat out awkwardly, with a half-bow at Singh, and a deeper bow at Bala with a grin, something they took notice of.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting. You've brought a gift I see," Nathan eyed the tiny packet Balaprada left out of her bag.

"I have. I hope you put it to good use. Though first things first." Balaprada held her hand out toward Nathan with expected eyes.

Which he thankfully read and brought his lips to meet the finest ring on her fingers. Ganabati always wondered why Balaprada liked to engage in such western practises. Though compared to Sing, she had taken more to living in the west than he had over the years.

"Very good Nathan, glad to see your manners are intact." Balaprada smiled softly as she lightly patted Nathan's cheeks with her hands.

"Of course Maharani, I learnt from your wise and benevolent example." Nathan grinned wildly.

Balaprada then handed the small, embroidered packet to Nathan, which he accepted ingloriously with one hand.

"It has been good speaking with you Ganabati," Singh said. "I wish we could stay longer, however we have tickets to the Royal Opera and must be going. I hope we can catch up more in person next time, Nathan."

"Yes of course, Toodle-oo Dalip," Nathan curtly said as he waved Singh off.

Singh raised a frown at that. But turned and started to make his way out of the office.

Ganabati went to the door and pressed the button for it to open, allowing the Maharajah and his wife to exit without pause.

"Enjoy the opera," Ganabati bowed.

Singh and Balaprada hadn't even exited the room before Nathan dumped the contents of the packet – another small data drive – into the palm of his hand.

"Just what we needed," Nathan's grin widened as he eyed the drive through his sunglasses.

"You could've at least waited until the Singh's were gone before you opened it," Ganabati sighed once the door closed. "Even cheekiness has its limits."

"Oh don't worry, they understand the sort of person I am. Especially Bala." Nathan said.

"Priestess Kayci has agreed to move forward on her end. Everything's all set concerning the National Museum as well. They've agreed to relinquish a certain artefact I've been eyeing, an artefact I'm certain Natsumi will appreciate having returned to its rightful owners. You gave Balaprada the information you received at the football game as well, I assume?"

Nathan opened the outer door to Lucius' enclosure and went inside. He swept one ungloved hand over the snake's scaly body and rifled through the jungle underbrush with his other.

"I made a copy for you as well of course," Ganabati said. He pulled another data drive out of his pocket and placed it on Nathan's desk.

Nathan pulled a briefcase from the underbrush and exited Lucius' enclosure. He grabbed the data drive Ganabati placed on his desk.

"I appreciate you doing this Ganabati, and for Bala in arranging it all." Nathan said. He rubbed the data drive on his trousers before slipping it into his pocket. "You didn't have to tell me why the sudden urge to go watch the Newcastle versus Dubai game, yet, you did anyway."

"I dislike keeping things like this secret from you. You're a capable man. We want the same things, both for India and the North," Ganabati said. "I will always be indebted to the Maharajah and Balaprada, however, I believe you can accomplish even more."

Nathan nodded. "I appreciate your confidence in me, Ganabati. I have not forgotten the debt I owe to you and to them for showing me kindness when no one else did. It's why i want to make sure you give what you deserve. "

Ganabati felt Nathan's hand briefly pat his back.

"We'll meet again once things move to the next stage. Our flights don't leave until tomorrow morning. For now… what say you to a early little supper Ganabati, I have much to regale you on what Sancho's status is in China?"


	3. Father, Son and the Mother Hen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First chapter of Roanapur Connection: Sound Drama

******A/N: Hi everyone, finally managed to get this done and out to you all. It is pretty much the first of what is practically the Sound Dramas for Roanapur Connection. With the difference from the Picture Drama chapters like** [ **Eye Of the Storm** ](https://www.deviantart.com/blackmanaburning/art/Eye-of-the-Storm-pt-1-2-Fanfic-Commission-756456294) **that expand on or show characters and events between the main chapters.** ** **

**Is that these side chapters take place before the events of RC begin, at different points of the timeline covering different characters and different events. Some of which will tie into future chapters of RC, some fill in blanks or implied bits of the main fic. Or simply World build the universe of[Roanapur Connection](https://www.deviantart.com/blackmambauk/art/Roanapur-Connection-741500725) and in extension. Code Geass Colored Memories, that will eventually be rebooted once Cat i.e. **anneauxdelacroix is able to get back into writing after everything that has happened this year.****

**This chapter has been solely written by myself. In the limited time I have in my workplace and personal life with all of the work and other stuff I have going on. Since I want to keep on writing and improving all the time. No matter how frustrating or tedious I find writing at times compared to outlining or coming up with ideas. But these are the responsibilities that come with Heading up a project like Roanapur Connection.**

**Especially with Assassin Creed Odyssey now out that's taking most of my spare time up, Red Dead Redemption 2 out next week. Along with the game mod Fallout New California for Fallout New Vegas out next week (which has meant going back on New Vegas and reminding myself of how brilliant that game is despite it's bloody bugs). That I have been waiting for five years to come out after it's brilliant prototype, Project Brazil. Along with an update to Vampire the Bloodline Mod, Clans quest that adds a ending to the Sabbit. So much to look forward to, anyways back to this chapter.**

**This is the first chapter of two parts (because as always, writing creep gets me going) that goes into the parents of CG character, Sayako Shinozaki. Which sets up their role in RC, of their relationships to canon CG characters and some major characters of both fic. Especially Saburo's father, Taizo Kirihara. A character I always wanted to go into since seeing him in the anime. He was one of the most wasted characters of the series in my view, with the amount of history and implications of him and his relationship to some of the Japanese cast of CG. It wasn't originally the intent to make Saburo and Oboro married and Taizo Sayako's grandfather. Since my original idea was that they were simply long time friends.**

**But Seth came up with the idea to make them married and I decided to go with it as it tied the two together better and simplified some of the relationships and ties, plus it gave me more ideas for Saburo's character as well. As it has much potential and doesn't contradict per say any CG canon on whos' tied to what (plus this is a alternative universe anyway so broad strokes). Along with tying into plans I had already in other ways that will become clear in the future.**

**Part Two will be out hopefully later this week, as[SkyGiratina00](https://www.deviantart.com/skygiratina00)   **is whipping out something for it that I plan to put into it. I think you will all like what we have in store for you.****

**As always, big thanks to[BlackManaBurning](https://www.deviantart.com/blackmanaburning)   **for being a great help with her suggestions and pushing me to improve on parts of the chapter and Part Two I was unsure on writing.****

**Enough rambling from myself. Enjoy the chapter everyone .**

**Blackmambauk**  
**____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________** _  
  
“If you ever want the bon antique example of a family in Japan that engages in boardroom power plays and so on. The Kirihara Clan, led for generations by its control at all costs obsessed freak of an elder if his gaudy daughter, weirdo of a second son are anything to go by. Kirihara Taizo, no doubt aided by its sneaky underling clan, The Shinozaki’s. His mope of a son is married to their quack of a leader, I mean seriously... who hangs a picture that Oboro hangs in their guest room, then again she had the nerve to grab my nose once as if she were grabbing a beak all because I noted that her profession was fake. About half the things that comes out of her little mouth makes sense only to her... the weirdo.  
  
If you wanted to go down to Tokyo and complain about the price of rice farmers were charging within the provinces. Or stop a foreign business from intruding in your hometown . One chat to Taizo and he would sort it out. The old saying goes is that if a bureaucrat goes into a meeting with the man. They come out either sweating buckets of sweat, pockets filled or spine reconfigured to the man’s full desire. Or if he has an eye on you like he did for dear Sumeragi Shizuka, what a disappointment she was in more ways than one. he will act as if you were his own child (yet he will refuse to acknowledge his own children for the most part if they disappoint him). He always like to “plant seeds” as he calls it and watch those flowers bloom.  
  
The vulgarness of such a metaphor is why the man ranks little in my eyes despite all the power he holds even now. But then his late wife was certainly made of similar stuff. Must be why the two got on well. Along with why his children act the way they do.  
  
The Kirihara’s are truly a clan like no other. In that they came from and still stink of the gutter.  
  
The middling rats in more ways than one. When he dies, I expect most to finally release their breath they hold around him. That it will make the room pass out of oxygen deprivation. That will be a sight to see.  
  
**-[Chiba Nozomi, Chapter IX of her book "I will fight to the Last" Page 520].**  
  
  
_ **____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
**

**[Date: 20/03/1995 ATB, Time: 11:00am, Shinozaki Residence, Odawara Japan]**

  
*Sip*  
  
Oboro, sipping her green tea down her throat slowly, making sure to taste the leaf in all of its tasty roots. As it drenched her thirst and nerves, and her pain as she took her meds, sat next to her husband, who as usual was completely rigid in body and tone as he sat there. Legs crossed, eyes shut, teeth grinding as he endured the man sitting opposite them. All the while having her father in law as an honoured guest in her own home.  
  
One of his bi-weekly visits. Although today was obviously about more than the usual family or business chats they had each time.  
  
She was still feeling the sores of her recent match, doing the shooting star press really made her ribs hurt for at least a week everytime she did it. Just this morning, her fingers even touching her brusie made the string sparkle the body in pain. Even more so she struggled to force her rice down her belly. Even now, it was proving quite the effort to breathe being seated with her knees on the cushion. Sometimes she could feel her body tilt around like a derelict boat flowing on a river stream.  
  
Not to mention that Dai Wagashi, who was sitting behind their guest in all her shining eggness, plumpy lip and small sugar grey eyes, laid with her ginormous Nagamaki sword that stretched almost at least eight feet, the handle, as always detailed and well-crafted in its burgundy.  
  
Was really stiff in her work and doesn't hold back in her punches, kicks and wrestling moves (those belly to belly really made the back sore at times). Not that she didn't held back herself as the powl in Dai’s eye made for a sight and the pills next to her tea indicated the obvious. She had seen Dai winch a few times when she blinks her eye or going half lid due to no doubt needing to focus more with a bruised eye.  
  
Or the taste of blade on their foreheads over the years made their matches crimson in places.  
  
But despite her stiffness, Dai was one of the few she trusted to wrestle with without the risk of injury.  
  
But still, it was taking a toll more and more as Oboro was reaching her 35th birthday. But the thrill of it… remained as strong as it was when she first started out at ten.  
  
Or the time Flamely tore his left quadruple during their tag match. That left him injured for up to a year and never quite the same, at least he could still moonsults and cartwheels considering his size. It was an embarrassment for such a man to be given that duty to put someone over who wasn’t even a wrestler. But that was Britannian wrestling for you, it’s pretty easy to see why so many of them come over to wrestle in Japan if they don’t get over back at home.  
  
She really felt for him, knowing what his upcoming match with that Britannian for the biggest wrestling event in Britannia would be like. Alas, what else could be expected from a company that has a clown. At least Bull was getting the chance to show what she could do. Jinzo as well. She and Saburo over the years had received many offers from the numerous territories back in the 80’s. And more recently from some outfit in Britannia’s original capital of Caedron, of which she had known some of her foreign wrestlers to head towards once they were finished up with her company.  
  
They always said no to the offers. Due to the travel schedule, the time they would be away from their daughter. And because she didn't trust them to know a wristlock form a wristwatch in terms of using them as wrestlers.  
  
“Thank you for your hospitality.” A all familiar voice to Oboro pulled her out of her thoughts as they took a sip of the green tea she had served out to them.  
  
Awkward silence flowed through the room so thoroughly that you could hear a pin drop.  
  
‘Oh for Goodness sake.’ Oboro thought. Seems she would have to say something, regardless of what her husband and father in law thought.  
  
“You are most...”  
  
“Father, you obviously came here with a purpose today. Please could you get right to it?” Saburo said interrupting her. To which she raised her brow at her husband and thinned her lips, a slight smack on the leg followed. As did Dai at the slight towards her boss.  
  
He was never one to do small talk for the sake of it. Something the grinding of his father’s teeth indicated displeasure. Usually it would be his hand gripping his cane as hard as possible.  
  
Tightly wrapped in jet black jeans, jacket with black sleeves and denim jacket look, which Oboro had picked out for him, otherwise he would be wearing tacky clothes and that would not do with the status of their guests. His buzzcut light dark figure loomed over everyone else in the room. His jaw rigid as always, eyes still pure in their hazel glow as ever with frames to complete the look. Carefully scanning the reaction of the guests as he scrunched his budgie nose, Oboro remembered seeing that nose the first time and wondering how wide it was. She had to grab it to make sure, something which he wasn’t amused with at the time.  
  
At least it gelled with her red Paris beret, black shirt that went to the shoulders, leaving her neck to breath. The wondrous grey skirt with the bow at the waist filling her aura and fashion sense. Oboro always liked to make sure that she looked wonderous to the world.  
  
Beside, it gave her the chance to see what sort of person he was and if he really had the grumpy aura he liked to project. To which the answer to that was… yes he does, but nowhere as much as Oboro had originally thought. Thanks goodness for that she had thought. She really did not want to end up married to someone who would be miserable all the time. Life should be as positive as it could be. There was so much to enjoy in the world, why spend your life being a sourpuss and not smelling the flowers. Of dancing in the rain, sure there was trouble in the world. Everyone had a story or secret.  
  
But those should not, at least in Oboro’s mind hold one back in life. She certainly wasn’t going to hold back in hers, no matter what she had to deal with. Even the very person she was dealing with at that moment.  
  
Oboro’s father in law, Kirihara Taizo, who was currently sitting across them, like father like son. Wearing that miserable looking frown, not wanting to give anything-away look. He and the Kururugi’s seem to ritualize for every meeting they go to, he hadn’t become one of Japan’s most wealthiest and most powerful for nothing. This aura of such grim dainty stuffiness really got to Oboro at times. In her view, a smile is much more warming and delightful to deal with. Sat as always, dressed in his black kimono, whisker like winkles covering his face. Frown so attached to his mouth that Oboro swore it was a mask imprinted by the gods.  
  
She wanted to walk up to him, rip it off and say HELLOOOOOO! Anybody home? As the crack in the face is depressing. Then she worried about what she would find.  
  
She believed that everyone wore a mask to the outside world, another one to friend and family. With one, they only ever shown to themselves. It was partly what helped Oboro to put on her families custom masks more often than not. She saw it as another layer to wear to the world. To helped herself get into the role she needed to get into. She supposed that’s why wrestling as Oboro Iga was such a great outlet for her. She could disappear into that role for storylines and take out her frustrations in direct ways she couldn't usually do.  
  
Whatever was Taizo’s third face was one Oboro was not sure on what it felt or think.  
  
He merely let a frustrated sigh out as he raised his head to look directly at his son.  
  
“Manners Saburo manners, it costs nothing for you to have basic manners. Especially when I happen to be your father and your guest. Besides, aren’t you going to regale me on how my granddaughter is doing or how things are with you and my daughter in law?” Taizo retorted.  
  
Oboro had to grip her left hand on her husbands to stop him from rolling his eyes or huffing at his father, especially as Dai sent her a look that said ‘Don’t let Saburo make more trouble’. Even though she very much understood why he wanted to.  
  
She had gone through effort to make sure that today’s meeting was going to be as tensionless as possible and she was not about to let him or anyone else ruin that.  
  
She smoothed her skirt with her other, just to stop herself from fidgeting or tapping her hands on the floor, she never liked touching her guest room floor, it had always felt it was rubbing a bush of needles, she hated how it often picked beneath her skin, she remembered all the blisters as a kid every time her parents had her entertain the other children guests in this very room. She also took another sip of tea to smooth her fraying mind.  
  
“Our daughter is well, you can visit her in the dojo afterwards, and she would love to actually see her grandfather visit her while she trains. We are doing well as always thank you father. Now can we please get to the matter at hand? I'm sure you are raring to grind about recent developments, we have other things to do today as you very well know.” Saburo said, Oboro could feel his hands about to clench into fists. She locked her fingers into them to prevent that from happening. It was neither the time nor place to do it.  
  
Taizo responded by shaking his head and huffing in disappointment.  
  
“Son… your mother and I raised you better than that. I will let it slide today. Since I am looking forward to seeing Sayako-chan later on for the first time in a while. Which I regret is the case. But duty to our clan, to Japan takes precedence above all else. Which leads onto the matter of Prime Minister Fushita and the China situation.” Kirihara-san said matter of fact.  
  
Oboro had to stop herself from sighing at the usual pedantics on display. No matter how much she had tried to contain all of this, a woman's’ smile was the ultimate shield and ice breaker in situations like this. So Oboro stretched the tips of her glossed lips to the limit.  
  
Nearly every meeting between them or any of Taizo’s children, even when they were all young and Oboro was a mere Shinozaki child. Had been fraught with tension, bickering arguing. Warmth was not the first word Oboro would use to describe her father in law (at least not normally, as he does show a measure of warmth to her daughter).  
  
He was stringent on things being a certain way, of youth respecting their elders, for people to act, think and feel a certain way. If there were one thing Oboro would give her father in law, is that he never lacked in on. If he owed a debt, he would pay it… one way or another. Nevertheless, it was what Kirihara Taizo was, like anybody else. He had friends, but also enemies. Which comes with any person of the retude that Kirihara Taizo was of.  
  
Such was the heartsome duty of being the 36th Shinozaki Clan successor of Martial Artists and wrestlers. Along with being the wife of the current heir of Clan Kirihara. But hey ho. Them’s were the cards of fate, pretty fluffy cards as Oboro always sees them as most of the time. From being SP’s, to important Clan members, or people tied to the Kirihara clan.  
  
Alternatively, as the Shinozaki’s always ended up doing. Guarding the gatherings with each of the Clan’s own security and monitored closely every time. Oh and going for walkies around the emulating estates, the Morimoto’s ones always provides the funniest ones for Oboro, they sure knew how to put on parties despite... the variety they like to put on that unnerves even Oboro.  
  
Or the way Morimoto Akira and Morimoto Ken often treated servants at the gatherings. That smirk on Akira’s especially always felt unnerving to Oboro. Nevertheless, it was not her place to intervene. No matter how much she might want to. Morimoto Tori was not someone to deal with lightly. Something even her father in law kept in mind when he dealt with them. Which didn't seem all that often, the Morimoto's were well known to shun away from Kyoto House meeting from time to time. Something which most of the clans were all too happy to oblige. The Osakabe’s especially due to the ‘taint’ of Morimoto blood and their… history dating back to when Japan opened back up to the world again around 1850.   
  
To which the Britannians had decided to foster some of their Imperial Family like the future Empress Clare Li Britannia. With some of the members of the Sumeragi/Kururugi family being fostered in Britannia to learn 'western' ways and encouraging Japanese merchants to ply their trade during the gold rush of the 1880's.  
  
Which, over the years Oboro had learned going through old documents kept in the Kirihara estate and confirming with Rabbit. Had led to Japan sending people keep tabs on Britannian activities. Her grandmother had been one of those that managed to infiltrate Britannian society during the Great War and passed information back to high command. Though Oboro had not been able to find out more about her grandmothers activities or what happened to her. She had vanished toward the end of the war in Britannia. She remembered her grandfather saying they had tried, but failed to find her or get any answers from the Britannians. Maybe it's something she should look into eventually.  
  
Sometimes, Oboro wished she could embrace her ring name of being an Iga fully in her personal life and not be tied into all these Clan ties and politics. That comes with being subordinate to a House Of Kyoto member. The back and forth between all the clans, the feuds that go on like between Natsumi and Genbu-san and so on was… just tiring to deal with at times.  
  
All too often, a undercover becomes tangled with emotions being played, priorities becoming a web of conflictions. Backstabbing happening while the people who claim to be your friend or ally smile all the while.  
  
However, while she would always be a Iga her mother side, being unable officially to claim it rubbed her the wrong way at times. Still, she was a Shinozaki through and through. Nothing would ever stop her from fulfilling her duty or the love she bears her father's side of the family for being a unique and set up the way it is. Besides, it was not as if she hated how things turned out. Saburo, while a grump and like his father at times.  
  
Had never judged her as others had for the way she was, had chosen to stay at home to raise their daughter Sayoko after she was born. Despite his father’s protest at him interrupting his plans for Saburo to rise up in the army (he had risen up to the rank of Captain by the time Sayako had been born). Which coloured their interactions even further at times. Oboro had lost count of how many times Taizo had tried to get his son back to being on active duty for the army.  
  
Still, at least the room had the fragrance of flowers to abound it from any stuffy smelling, since it was Oboro’s guest room after all. She would have it be no less than a marvellous site. There was a saying that you could glimpse on what a person’s personality or attitude was from the way they had a room or office set up. Hence why Oboro always made sure that each room in the Dojo and Shinozaki estate had its own charm.  
  
Wallpaper abound with bright imagery of sakura cherries, of the Cat spirits that Oboro honours. Of fine fluffy cushions that made sitting on her rear end for a fair while more pleasurable. Adoring the room with Tsubaki’s, with a little daint of rosy candles that Oboro takes all the joy in filling her nostrils with at every opportunity. Mixing it in nicely with her vanilla perfume she often wore and was wearing today.    
  
The main one being in the room they were in…a duck. Well, a picture of a Yellow fluffy duck to be precise. Since meeting rooms often had a fair bit of quacking going along. Moreover, often some real quacks and hacks to go with it.  
  
Besides, Oboro was the mother duck and like all mothers, would flap to protect her ducklings from all harm. Or grab a beak of a disproving element.  
  
She had to stop herself from fidgeting with her skirt or whistling. If there was one thing her father in law hated, it was the sound of whistling... or the sight of laughter.  
  
As she had learnt the hard way when he dressed her down in private during the first meeting between herself and Saburo when they were first arranged as children. In which someone had let out some gas so loud (Oboro was sure who it was considering it came from the other side). His voice never raised once, but the way his face hardened, the daggers in his eyes and the way she felt made to lean into the wall with her back as he loomed over her with his hands on his cane.  
  
She had wanted to muffle herself with her ponytail afterwards and practically broke down crying once he was finished dressing her down.  
  
All because Oboro could not control her laughter or cover her face despite her father shouting at her to stop. All that tension, awkwardness of the first meeting, which had not been helped by her spilling the tea she had prepared over Saburo’s face. Because she was that nervous in meeting him and making a good impression. Her father had always gone on when she was young of having a Shinozaki married to one of the Six Houses of Kyoto. So he had put so much on her to make it work and to rise their families stature up. Her mother had supported him in doing so. Believing that it would be best for her and her children.  
  
'To some extent it has worked out... but only because I worked hard to make it work and because Saburo works with me.'  
  
Some whispered that the only one who could make Taizo truly smile or laugh was his late wife. Kirihara Maiko. A dancer by trade, born a Kururugi and was Tendo The Builders younger sister. Oboro remembered of her late mother in law, with her flowy brunette hair, kissed by sun skin. Kururugi olives eyes. Curly hips and confident figure.  
  
Thankfully, Maiko had comforted her afterwards and said her husband would let it go after she made clear her feelings and position on the matter. Then gave a wink, sorry hand and admitted what Oboro suspected all along, it was her who farted during the meeting and that she was glad her future daughter in law had a sense of humour.  
  
Thankfully, he did and in time became amiable enough for Oboro to get on and work with. At least he would listen to her input and ideas. Though sometimes she wondered if it was down more to wanting to keep Saburo on side or if he really saw value in her and what she could and did bring. At least with Genbu and others, they made things clear with their raised eyebrows or awkward silence of her presence in the room.  
  
The mention of Saburo's mother made Oboro reminisced, she likes to reminisce when she can, especially when she’s balancing on the roof of her dojo with her umbrella and wondering if she could fly with it, the one time she had tried, it ended up making her legs go awe a lot for the next year and left a hole in the roof of her Dojo Shrine. Something her parents were not happy about for a fair while.   
  
The way she lit a room up with her compliments and jokes. Oboro remembered the one about the golden egg? Which actually was because it was a long tamago, it had caused her to laugh for at least a minute in tears and got even her husband and son to crack a good chuckle.  
  
She always graced the clan gatherings of Kyoto House with her dancing, in hosting the meetings and social gatherings of the Kirihara clan as well.  
  
She had been the one who taught Oboro to dance. Oboro remembered fondly of how she showed her how to maintain her balance. Of the praise, she would throw when she got a move right. She was a blast to dance with when they went out around Tokyo, she had a thing for electro dances and the glow lights they had in the 80’s.  
  
‘Though I managed to break her wiggles a few times before I grasped the nuance of her dances. But she never minded.’  
  
She seemed the Ying to Taizo’s Yang. She certainly does not remember a smile from her step father that wasn’t at an angle or just… off since Maiko had passed on from a sudden strap infection 5 years ago when she cut herself on a nail while practising a dance for the then upcoming Kyoto House Conference. She had waded it off, as she often did. But then during the dance. She collapsed and never woke back up.  
  
Because of that, Oboro felt for her father in law. He had always seemed to think he would go before her and according to Saburo, had prepared for everything for her to be set up once he passed on.  
  
‘Anytime he smiles these days, it makes me more determined to reconnect father and son… it’s what Maiko would want… and I want it as well. Both need the other, even if they would never admit it. Despite what Saburo has told me of how he treats his other son Fumihiro and the way he ignores Hana his eldest child and Saburo's elder sister.’  
  
Oboro looked up to see her father in law smirking just at the upper corner of his lips. She knew what this was leading into.  
  
“The man seems to finally be showing some fire beyond his wit… right when he is about to resign. Would have been nice if he had shown it last year when he met Emperors Malcolm and Xiang at the Pacific countries conference despite his boyish charms. Especially since he ended up dropping the price of Sakuradite to ridiculous levels that ended up costing us millions. This is what happens when we allow the government to act without checking with Kyoto House first. Thankfully...” The smirk grew wider to the point Oboro was sure was out of one of those cheap Britannian horror films.  
  
“I wasn’t the one who ended up lecturing him about that. Or the tax rise his Chief of Finance was planning on our businesses. Kaida saved me the hassle when she paid him a visit at his office. One of Jun’s aides mentioned how Kaida’s cut through any of Jun’s charms with full vigour.”  
  
Oboro could believe that, Rabbit's mother. Sumeragi Kaida-Sama was never one to allow anyone to speak for her when something rubbed her the wrong way. Which even her father in law had learnt the hard way according to Saburo when they were younger.  
  
Even today at Kyoto House meetings. Taizo softens his words and tone when he addresses her.  
  
Many PM’s often consult with her (or with Taizo) when they first take up office to get her advice on what to do. Some take her advice, others do not. But all came out of their meeting with her knowing not to ever discount her opinion… or her family. She wasn’t called the Sly Fox for nothing.  
  
Something, which Natsumi most certainly got her perchance to speak out often from. Yet Oboro found it strange how often they seem to argue. Rabbit (which is what Oboro liked to call her due to her tenancy to scowl like a rabbit when young) though Rabbit had always prefer to be seen as a wolf, probably why she brought Filtiarn to every event or meeting she goes to. She had to tell Rabbit specifically a number of times that she did not want her feeding Filtarian in her dojo or bringing him along. He had a tenancy to bite anyone that annoyed him.  
  
Which had resulted one time in it biting Taizo in the leg during a Kyoto House meeting when the two were arguing. Which had resulted in him having to sue a cane to walk. After that, he made it a rule that Rabbit could either leave it outside or she would be barred from representing her family at any meetings or getting any deals.  
  
Always has had that tenancy to argue with anyone because of how strong her beliefs or views were. Opinionated was definitely the word to fit her like a glove.  
  
Especially her sister, Shizuka-Sama, who pretty much never argued with anyone else. Even with those that held very different viewpoints from hers. She always seem to find a way to be cordial to them and disarm any tensions with her graceful smile and demeanour. Something Rabbit had ranted a number of times during their nights out round Tokyo and in her own nightclub, Rabbit was often there every weekend, hanging out with a variety of people, from celebs, to friends. Oboro could say one thing about that, Rabbit knew how to throw a good time most of the time.  
  
Oboro personally felt that Rabbit was fearless and in many ways, admirable for taking to the platform the way she does and refusing to back down from those that disagree with her lightly. For the causes she stand and believes in, few Japanese spoke out about doing more for disabled people and for those that were… gay. For the ambitions she holds, which she knew their father was going to bring up at somepoint during their meeting. She was not Chief Director of Sumeragi Conglomerate at 27 just because it’s her families company.  
  
Along with she was not afraid to call someone out, or kick them in the balls or bite them as Genbu-Sama had found out the hard way more than once. It had been what led to Natsumi and Haru-Chan becoming friends. As she had intervened on some of the Kururugi’s and Morimoto relatives bullying on him when they were teenagers.  
  
But other times… she could get overbearing and rather tiresome, especially since she would make a competition out of everything, from drinking games, to who could get the highest on Dance Dance or when they played Risk and she expected her opponent to be aggressive. It was fun when they were younger, but now…. It felt like a chore. Her drinking antics were something Oboro was getting concerned about. The time when Rabbit came over at 3am along with her… night friends, which had resulted in words being said and items being broken. It still remained in her and her husband’s mind to this day. Saburo had nearly hit her in the process for her actions waking up their recently born daughter. The only thing that stopped her from cutting ties it was Natsumi atonement and promising to never do it again.      
  
She nearly ended her friendship with Natsumi over it until she came back the next week after she needed time to cool off from her, apologised with the only time she ever knelt to her with head on the very tatami mat they were sitting on. Then basically spent the next 2 weeks clearing up all the damage she had caused. Though Saburo had taken longer to forgive for what she had done, by longer Oboro meant nearly a year, the two often didn't see eye to eye on a few matters. It had taken to sitting the pair down herself, refusing to let them leave until they talked like adults. It may have taken 6 hours before either one made an effort. But they eventually reconciled after letting the other know what they thought of each other and agreeing to work on their flaws and appreciating the others viewpoint.  
  
‘The things I do for my loved ones.’  
  
Rabbits could also be, pretty frustrating with how her temper flares more often these days, usually Haru being the victim of Rabbit’s irritation. She even took exception to being called Rabbit by pretty much everyone these day, despite knowing Oboro meant it with great affection. In many ways, Oboro felt she kind of needs to get over herself and take herself less seriously.  
  
Oh and to stop snapping her fingers so much. Oboro really hated when she snapped her fingers loudly.  
  
‘If any other woman acted the way Rabbit acts like at times, they would either be fired at work. Scolded or disowned by their family. As much as I love her as one of my oldest and dearest friends. She can be really blind to what her family name protects her from.’  
  
Yet this is true of anyone that is a friend. Especially one that goes back years like theirs does despite the near decade age gap between them, Oboro can’t remember Natsumi being friends with anyone but Haru-Chan (he was about two years younger), that were her same age as her. Natsumi was and always would be Rabbit to Oboro.  
  
‘The shadow of a sibling like Shizuka-Sama is very hard to ignore or not be affected by. Saburo knows that all too well with the shadow his father hangs over him.’  
  
“Which brings us to the matter of what to do once Fushita’s resignation is confirmed officially. The fifth victim in five years. Goodness me, it's disgraceful to see such meaderness from our government for so long. I will not allow this to stand, Japan’s flower must remain strong, it’s youth committed to its prosperity.”  
  
“Is this where you bring up that Sumeragi-Sama should step up to be Prime Minister again father?” Saburo basically huffing as he said it. Oboro was interested as well to see what Taizo would say on this matter.  
  
It was well known that he had tried to convince Shizuka-Sama to step up to the position each time a Prime Minister resigned, was fired or in the case of the last one, had a heart attack and dropped dead during a debate.  
  
Oboro could see Taizo taking a long frustrated breath as the frown deepened, eyes digged into the skull as though a bad memory was cropping up, looking out the window to the doku dinking in water.  
  
“No, Shizuka-san made it clear two years ago she would never take up the reign of being Prime Minister of Japan. Typical of her really, for all her talk of her belief system, she refuses to actually do anything with it. Shame overall, all that talent, training and experience I gave her, all that size and disposition, her family name. A true waste of such a rare flower. Once soiled, it never grows back…” Taizo said as if he was speaking of someone who had died.  
  
Oboro had to discreetly mouth to Dai if Taizo had just said what he had just said. Dai sent a signal back indicating that he had. Turning her head to give a slight frown at Taizo for his remarks. Oboro could see her digging her hand into her gloved fist. The snap crackle and pop sound of it reaching her ears. If it reached Taizo's ears, he didn't give any indication.  
  
Oboro could see Saburo’s lips go even thinner than they were already.  
  
She really had to dig her fingernails into her skirt to calm herself before Taizo looked back at her and spotted her reaction. She couldn't give anything away that would make her father in law suspect her.  
  
Oboro was sure the winds of winter had blustered into the room for the last few minutes. She wished she had worn a cardigan now that the hairs of her skin were all standing up. Oboro couldn't stand the coldness on her skin.  
  
“... An utter shame, since Japan needs the guidance she could have provided more than ever. Ironically, it seems Natsumi-Chan is the one that has that ambition from what the rumours are going around at the moment. As if anyone in Kyoto or the government is going to accept someone who has never learned proper manners or respect for her elders. She a certain level of intelligence and confidence I will give her that. But her as Prime Minister? It will be her own doom.” Taizo nonchalantly said.  
  
Oboro really had to restrain herself from speaking out, she wanted to say while Natsumi's goal was difficult, it was far from being impossible. She wouldn't be the first business person to take the reign if she does manage the feat. She has the last name to appeal to many parties. The Sumeragi’s had lineage going back to the foundation of Japan, they were respected by most. Feared by everyone in Japan and across the world. But also loved by a decent number as well.  
  
If anyone could be break down the barriers down and allow women the chance to be more equal, Rabbit could. Though could is the key word Oboro thought. Natsumi needed to work on her flaws, for starters learning that obsessing on winning arguments was not what most wanted for a PM. She would need allies in both parties and the Diet. Something Oboro knew she was working on as she thought it.  
  
“Well father, who exactly would you have as Prime Minister since you disapprove of anyone who has a mind of their own?” Saburo sarcastically said.  
  
“...Yoshino Hironori, he’s respected without being arrogant about it. He knows when to listen. He’s served in government for years. His family is well known, respected for having to help mediate the peace treaty of 1945, keeping our independence, making sure Emperor Yoshimoto's family were well cared for after his... suicide along with my.... I remember watching his father in action and standing tall against the Britannian, Russian and Chinese diplomats who tried to break our country up into pieces for themselves. Those were the days. If there was another family I would want as a Kyoto House member, it would be the Yoshino’s.” Taizo reminisce as Oboro noticed a softer smile crept over him.  
  
So he could still smile like that.  
  
“I’m surprised by your choice father?” Saburo said as he raised his left eyebrow.  
  
Oboro could hear Taizo let out a small chuckle at his son’s remark.  
  
“Hmm, were you under the delusion I was considering my nephew in law’s bid to be PM? Dear dear boy, you have so much to learn. That Turtle may be related by blood via my late wife. But that does not mean I would want him being in that kind of position. Like Natsumi-chan. Genbu-bo is ill fit to be anything more than what he currently is. A Lieutenant General who swings his sword at what we tell him to swing it at. It’s the only useful aspect to him. That and having the last name Kururugi. His late father would be ashamed of him if he still lived.”  
  
Oboro could see her husband tense up at how Taizo was dissipating about the man he had served under once. Saburo didn't like it when someone spoke curtly of anyone in the military.  
  
Oboro was going to say nothing on the matter of Kururugi Genbu in front of her father in law, she did not have much fondness for him due to how arrogant he is along with how he talked down to other people, especially her often, but at the same time. She pitied the boy she had known, in many ways. Genbu was like Natsumi, someone who was overlooked by their relatives, pushed to representing and honouring the family at all times. It was little wonder he had taken to the military the way he had. If there was one thing Oboro would always give Kururugi Genbu, was that he was willing to go the distance and fight on the front lines, unlike some of the commanders in the Japanese military.  
  
“But anyways, enough on the subject of an empty position. We have other affairs to attend to. What with we are up against.” Oboro then saw Taizo stand up, using his cane to steady himself. He looked out to the gardens. Where they could now see some of her and Saburo’s students practising in the centre of the gardens, right near where the blossoms of spring were blooming. The raking of sand by the Dojo apprentices. The river of streams ringing round into the basins as the Dojo students practised their lessons. Others walking along the path that Saburo had spent the last summer paving out with the students as part of a team building project.  
  
Oboro could smell the ever delight of the flowers blossoming within her gardens.  
  
From where she was sitting, She was pretty sure she could make out… Tatsu-Chan was it with the spiky short boyish hair and constant grinning whenever she taught the younger students of the Dojo? Goofing off by doing karate chops and summersaults near the snow lantern, amusing some of their fellow students until one of the instructors came over and she ran off as they chased after her as she ran across the rooftops of the outer dojo buildings with the students cheering her on.  
  
“That one.” Oboro heard her husband mutter under his breath as he frowned.  
  
That one was certainly plucky if nothing else. Someone for her to keep an eye on for future development maybe?  
  
Then Taizo coughed raspily, which bought Oboro’s attention back to him as he still stood facing out at the garden.  
  
“To the East, We have Malcolm and his crude ways. To the West, we have the unrest and ill breeding of Xiang’s son and the generals that eye us with the likely abdication of Xiang coming soon in light of the unrest across China. To the further west, we have a EU that seems unsure on what it wants to be and allowing a sub Britannia to rise at the edge of their borders in Eastern Europe. To the North, we have a Russia that could go either way with the EU or with Euro Britannia depending on what it’s people decide. Through all of this, lies opportunity. Along with to the south with India if your reports are accurate Oboro. If you please, share them with us.” Taizo finished as he sat back down on his cushion seat.  
  
Oboro practically lifted off her straight back as soon as he finished speaking and hearing her name, ignoring the slight pain that raffled throughout her body when she did so, she would show no dint to anyone. Her skirt dusted and perfect as it flowed. Eyes twinkling and the smile expanding as she took the floor. These parts were always where Oboro felt she could fluff her wings fully.  
  
She had signalled to Hanzo at the door via her hand to be ready the moment she beckoned to him to fetch the reports and bring the tablet. It was always most prudent to be running with the left foot while jumping with the right foot.  
  
As always with her ducklings, nimble and silence as the Owl masked duckling, that is Hanzo approached her with the documents and tablet. Bowing respectfully as they took their leave with great haste.  
  
Saburo tapped her leg slightly to indicate his faith in her.  
  
“Yes indeed, our contacts within India strongly indicate that exiled Maharajah Singh and his wife Maharani Balaprada. Along with the main Indian resistance groups. Are on the verge of possibly launching a major campaign to free themselves of Britannia's control of their country.” Oboro then passed out photos of the Maha’s at the European Union's, Council of Forty.  
  
Which covered everything country in Europe, including the Vatican and Central/Eastern European countries that had split from either Russia (which had either conquered or intervene in domestic troubles during the decades after the Great War to spread their influence), Germany (Which still had Prussian territories in Poland and around Austria/Switzerland), Czechoslovakia or Yugoslavia after the end of the EU-Russian war.  
  
Maharani Balaprada looked especially gracious in her wear and attitude, a contrast to her husband stoic face and smart bandhgala as he spoke.    
  
With a somewhat portly bearded scarred man behind them, looking serious as well. The very person whom she was about to refer.  
  
“Though we suspect this will depend on what happens at the Chinese/Britannian conference next month, to which we will have our personal in position to monitor and potentially take advantage of. Our main agent in the area, Goru reported that recently, they had made contact with one of the Maharajah’s closest people. Who we also know is connected to some interesting people within Europe, specifically the Mercenary Outfit, the Golden Company. Who we know their board members to be people of high influence or positions within the EU. Some I believe you already know Kirihara-sama.” Oboro then spread out pictures to everyone in the room.  
  
Each one of known board members of the GC, From Chief Director Oswald Leland sitting with his cigar in mouth at the International Business Conference in Frankfurt. The EU’s Minister of Business Otto Müller could be seen sat next to him chatting pleasantly.  
  
“Ah yes Director Leland, always seems to like his own jokes whenever I deal with him. Constantly making so called witty remarks. Mr Muller on the other hand is a lot more pleasant to deal with. A man that knows his accounts and figures.” Taizo noted dryly.  
  
Director of Logistics Francesco Caspari overlooming along with his wife Greta, both dressed flamboyantly and flashy like in suit and fashion dress. Bowing with great reverence in their meeting with Pope Pius XIV and the rest of the Vatican Priests.  
  
“Is he wearing perms in his hair? And chaps in his mouth.” Dai booming her baritone for the first time today while trying to suppress a smile at the photo.  
  
Oboro knew that Dai appreciated when a man showed interests in feminine hygiene.  
  
Taizo just shook his head at the sight. Saburo shrugged, Oboro had to stop herself from thinning her own glossed lips.  
  
‘Honestly, what exactly is the problem some people have with a man wearing perms and having a manicure? It’s actually quite nice to see a man appreciate and know how much effort goes into makeup and other things most men have naught a clue on.’  
  
To Director of Intelligence, Elizabeth Norwood in her braid wrapped dirty blonde slightly wavy tresses, her emeralds sparkling with passion as she spoke with EU officials, her height being on the same level as many of the men. Along with a shorter French/Swiss islander brown braided white blonde pudgy young woman at her side. Looking a little awkward and not as confident but managing to engage in talks as she passed out sheets of what looked like charts and data.  
  
She was Elena Burgin, Assistant Director for the Golden Companies Europe Intel Division. Oboro knew that the Golden Company had Intelligence divisions in Africa and ln Britannia countries as well.    
  
“Is this the person that is close to the Maharajah’s contact?” Taizo looking up form the photos enquired.  
  
“No, but we have been informed that Director Norwood is the direct superior of the Maharajah's contact in the Golden Company and is on good terms with him. With Miss Burgin being the second in command and often point of conduct.” Oboro confidently replied.  
  
Rabbit had specifically asked her to look into Elena’s boss when she had first approached her about a possibly of dealing with the rising situation in China. All she would say when asked why look into the Golden Company specifically compared to other Merc companies like say. Extra Order, Or why she was considering hiring them in the first place when the situation was not exactly at the war phrase yet. She merely stated that Elena’s boss was of personal interest to Sumeragi affairs.  
  
Oboro had heard through her agents that there had been a recent incident where an ancient artefact in Britannia had gone missing during a transportation from a Archaeology site. Golden Company agents had apparently been spotted at the site days before in disguise of local uni students of Pendragon University. Rabbit had spurted her coffee on Oboro when she told her about it. She knew part of Rabbit duties in the Sumeragi Clan related to collecting or finding artefacts. She wondered if this ancient one was the spark that got Rabbit wanting to dig into it all.  
  
Her own view was that Elena’s boss certainly was a potential option to go with in case was does break out. The Golden Company's reputation and history in Europe was certainly held in higher esteem compared to other merc companies around. Plus, they would be hiring a unit that is led by someone who served in the EU-Russia war and has operated according to her intel in various operations and warzones. Along with strong ties to the Indian resistance and their leaders. That would be a valuable asset to have if Japan went to war.  
  
She planned to meet with Rabbit in the next week to update her on what was happening and what she had found out about the Director of Intelligence of Europe for the GC.  
  
‘I would certainly be interested in working with them if it comes to what we fear it will come to. I also heard that I have a fan in Miss Burgin’s boss. It will be nice to work with someone who appreciates my talents.’  
  
“We sent Hikaru to this the very meeting in Joshimath that we managed to arrange with Hui Ying’s aide and the pair in question. Akane managed to capture a few interesting clips of them with Britannian special forces, Viceroy of India Grand Duke Rendon Soresi and General Xinghe’s troops impacting the meeting.” Oboro continued outlining to everyone in the room.  
  
She then tapped into the rather bulky tablet to find the video relevant to their discussion. One of Natsumi’s prototypes for what she deemed the next stage of watching fiction. Personally, Oboro preferred VHS for being able to rewind more easily.  
  
Akane, had fitted the camera into her bird mask so the angle would be not the greatest on some of the scenes. Along with the distance she was at according to her report.  
  
The view of it was from within the Forest of Nanda Devi, good thing she trained her ducklings to climb trees and use height to their advantage. Akane had always been fond of running up to the top of any tree she could find. Though it meant she had gotten stuck on the high ones once or twice and Oboro had to come and fetch her down.  
  
Oh, the beauty of the flowers there, Oboro remembered wading through them and embracing all the fragrance they gave off. Even Saburo had cracked through his frown that day with the flower necklace he made for her. He had expressed interest in returning to India one day. Maybe all of these events might provide him with that opportunity.  
  
She had gone undercover a number of times in India. Back in the 80’s, when Japanese Intelligence undertook Operation Janba to try and influence activities. But the tribes around Northern Eastern India, mostly those that wanted to split into a separate country were busy with supporting the tribes of Afghanistan against the Russian occupation and not much against Britannian or Chinese interests at the time.  
  
Complete web of complexity Oboro knew it was, something she wondered what it would lead to if India were liberated from Britannian rule. Especially since China has continued to advance their borders beyond Tibet since Russia was beaten in its war with the EU five years ago. Xiang’s son, the Crown Prince had seen to that with his conquests that his generals like Xinghe contributed with Mongolia being conquered five years ago.  
  
Xinghe and Viceroy Soresi’s troops were at a standoff as they both surrounded Hikaru, Hui’s aide and The Maharajah/Golden Company personal in the middle of the forest and near the flower beds. While the local villagers looked on in fear of the tension sparkling up from a distance.  
  
The main group, while not moving. Oboro could make out were positioning and readying themselves for combat. Ying’s aide being made to take cover by her guards and by Maharajah’s representative.  
  
“Well, it seems they know some tactical sense to  prepare themselves and take the non combatants out of the danger zone.” Saburo quipped in.  
  
Xinghe, in full armour gear, towering over the runty figure of the Viceroy. Draped in his detailed robes, curly cocoa hair crowning his biggish head, adorned with a tiger petted cloak. Whagging a paper around and poking Xinghe in the chest. Barking at each other of who had jurisdiction and the borderlines of the forest. An all too familiar tale Oboro knew about, Japan often had border disputes with China and Russia over islands near Kyushu and Hokkaido (the latter mainly due to gas lines and depots in the region). The later had come back under Japanese control during the war.  
  
At one point, Japan had Vladstosk and the nearby coastline under control. Major General Kururugi Genbu had taken it along with his Major, Amashita Kiyomasa when Japan entered the war in late 89. Saburo had served under both at the time and rants even to this day. Of how distasteful he found Kiyomasa especially and the people, both Kiyomasa and Genbu kept under their thumbs.  
  
‘Saburo never went into detail about what Kiyomasa did, but the face he makes every time he hears about it or someone brings it up. Speaks volumes alone. War often influences instincts in people peace tends to quell.’  
  
It had been why Saburo would roll his eyes every time he saw nationalism, glory of war or crude comments from any of their ducklings or with people like Tatsunori Osakabe.  
  
Something he had no trouble taking them to task about. Which Oboro had to sometimes step in to make sure it didn't escalate.  
  
After the war, Japan had receded control back to Russia after the Liberal party and Shizuka-Sama had complained to Prime Minister Juri Fukumoto about the legality of the Military's actions. Which had gotten Shizuka some backlash in Kyoto House and the more fervent members of the military, press etc. due to her participation in some of the skirmishes and the final battle of Moscow. Oboro remembered Saburo walking up to Major Kiyomasa and his cohorts glanhandling Shizuka and stating his support for her actions.  
  
Along with speaking out in public about it all, it had led his father to refuse to even speak to him for six months after he had tried to talk him out of speaking to the press. No one in Taizo’s family spoke out of turn or out of place publicly or without his approval.  
  
‘I remember Chiba-san basically hounding us for the next year trying to contribute to her campaigning and activism, allegedly on Shizuka-Sama’s behalf. Which I doubt since Shizuka-Sama either arranges her charity drives herself or has her Lady in Waiting, Tomoko-Chan visit people or businesses to arrange donations.’  
  
“I think, you will be interested to see what happens next in this video.” Oboro continued as she resume the video play.  
  
The shouting match between Xinghe and Soresi escalated while the special forces leader, Someone with what looked like stylish long wavy oily blonde hair. Attempted to get things back on track between the supposed allies of China and Britannia.  
  
Tensions boiled over when the bang went off. The range from where the camera was on Akane’s did not make it clear on which side set them off. But that had led the boiler to tumble over.  
  
Soresi tried to swing at him, missing while being knocked out in one punch as he embedded the flowerbed he slipped into. Pedals flying around and covering the Viceroy and his troops.  
  
“What a imbecile. Trying to hit a military trained man, especially one with the fighting skills General Xinghe has, he’s lucky he didn't chop him to bits.”  
  
A cry that sounded like now rang, as she was certain Akane moved closer to get a better view.  
  
Bangs of smoke covered the view, but Oboro could tell that there was some vines swooning two people into the trees. Pops of gunfire continued to sweeten the Camera's audio feed as figures moved from tree to tree.  
  
“Honestly, what is the Viceroy thinking in not having his troops take cover by the trees? It is basic military tactics. You can see Xinghe troops doing it the moment the smoke goes off.” Oboro heard her husband grumble as the Viceroy's troops continued to fire amongst the smoke.  
  
His military training and passion shining through. Oboro remembered as kids he would watch old videos of famous battles, read through books. Learning all there was to conducting strategies and tactics of war. She found most of it to be somewhat dry, having always preferred the intrigues of Intel gathering or sneaking behind enemy lines. Along with flying in the square circle.  
  
“Probably because the Viceroy is clearly not a military man and is what usually is the weak link in these type of situations.. A politician.” Dai retorted.  
  
“Indeed,” Saburo agreed.  
  
“Silence, the video is still playing.” Taizo said as silence become the forte once more.  
  
Then things got really interesting, Like many Britannians Oboro had fought against in her years. The special forces leader, pulled out their sword and basically went medieval on the Chinese troops buttocks, Oboro could not abide swearing, it was one of few matters which she felt the west were uncivilized for allowing to spread. Oboro could not get that saying out of her head due to Rabbit constantly quoting from the film it’s from.  
  
Then, the cries of twin sword slashing through the human body was intercepted by the sound of what Oboro was sure was a spear or lance clanging against it. The smoke clearing up to vaguely allowed everyone to see the site.  
  
Someone in a smart looking suit, was wielding a spear in one hand, while wielding a short spear in the other. Twirling them as they clashed with the twins of swords. Sparks flying as what sounded like a woo sprouted out.  
  
That a true medieval battle was underway. Which lasted for a minute before dissipating with smoke covering the field again as Oboro was certain the suit looking figure flew into the air and trees with ferocity along with another figure that was more of slender build and looked like their hair had unravelled from its tied up state.  
  
Hui Ying’s aide was running with her two guards towards the open road and what looked like jeeps.  
  
Streams of blood continued to spray over the flowers from the cut limbs and bullet wound flying around. Cover fire from the trees continued as troops on both side struggle to navigate via the smoke. Cries of pain sprouted out as Oboro viewed the video.  
  
Eventually the camera moved away from the forest and caught up with the party as they ran at full throttle.  
  
“Akane, we need go now. Cut the feed!” Hikaru shouted, but not before someone was heard saying.  
  
“I like to thank everyone for their attendance and I hope we passed the audition Oboro?”  
  
“...Audition?” Taizo and Saburo both said at the same time. Looking at Oboro with suspicion in their eyes. Dai merely just shook her head in confusion of what that remark was supposed to mean.  
  
Oboro stretched her lips into the biggest smile she could muster, baring her teeth until her cheeks were hurting.  
  
“Wrestling audition, It’s an audition for my wrestling company. They are big fans and want to join our company.” Oboro practically could feel the lie fill the room.  
She was certain they were buying it. Though she could still see the doubt in her husband’s eye of the authenticness of it.  
  
‘I was told that Elena’s boss had a certain… sense of humour. Now I see why.’  
  
She knew that he was sending someone to meet with her today to discuss the Rabbit/China thing.  
  
In fact they were due any… oh fudge. Oboro looked at her watch, they were due in 10 minutes.  
  
She signalled to Hanzo at the to come in and pretend he was delivering bad news. It had come in handy once or twice before.  
  
“My Lord Kirihara, deepest apologies for cutting this meeting short. But we need to attend to a matter that’s just come up that I must attend to.” Oboro practically sprouted out as she rushed to her feet to open the door for her father in law.  
  
He eyed her with suspicion as to the abruptness of her comments and actions. But pushed it no further. Seeing as he had other matters to attend to as well.  
  
“...right of course, I think we are done here. Thank you for your time, it has been most stimulating for both us. Time to see how my granddaughter is doing” Taizo said as he and Dai bowed and took their leave.  
  
Oboro and Saburo returning it by the doorway as Hanzo showed them out.  
  
Oboro faffed around the room to make it ready for their next guest. She always fretted when this happened.  
  
She felt her husband’s hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Relax, it will be fine. It can’t be any worse than what we just went through.” Saburo said as he made sure no crests had formed in his outfit.  
  
Hanzo appeared a few minutes after Oboro had tidied up the room, not a cushion or picture was out of place. Bringing a new set of tea and biscuits for their second guests of the day.  
  
Along with the set of reports and documents they would need for their meeting.  
  
“Oboro-sama, your guest has arrived.”  
  
“Very good Hanzo, show him in.” Oboro said.  
  
The doors opened and Oboro saw a site… she was not expecting.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi everyone,**

  
**Finally managed to get this chapter done. A lot of work came up last week that stopped me from finishing it off then liked I wanted to and this week has been no different. Add in Red Dead 2 finally coming out last week and Fallout New California mod and my weekend was busy playing games that have been on my list for half a decade. Both are great, one is free to download and will play with most pcs.**

**Anyways, here is pretty much the second half of Father, Son and the mother Hen chapter. I had a commission piece for it done by SkyGiratina00 that will be at the end. Think you will all enjoy seeing what Oboro and Saburo look like.**

**Hopefully the next update will be chapter two of Roanapur Connection and will be before the year is out. Thanks again for your continued patience.**

**Thanks everyone**

**Blackmambauk**

* * *

 

A tallish figure (about the size Shizuka-Sama was Oboro guessed). Clad in full white kimono, with a flowery pattern of cherry sakura adorning it, fur mink covering the shoulder and neck area, what looked like a cross was hanging around their neck, though it wasn't a usual Christian cross Oboro had seen on one of Genbu's lieutenants, Josui was it? It was more of a design she had seen in one of those books Rabbit used to show her of early British history, she couldn't remember what they were called. Fan covering the face with the image of a large smile laced in red lipstick. Light soft giggles as they walked in with their Tabi socks quietly touching the wooden floorboard. With a slender figure that looked familiar from the recent video they had just watched. Was this person the one with the long flowing hair who lifted off with the man in suit?

Flanked at both sides by two people, one more burly and the other looking more hippish. Both wearing the same what looked like detailed merc uniforms, faces and hair masked up with only their eyes visible and hidden by sunglasses and Golden colored Berets. HK33 Assault Rifles resting on their shoulders.

The Golden Company's sigil of a Golden Skull with a snake wrapped around it printed on their shoulders. Their words printed on them 'Our word is as good as gold.' The burly one was carrying a briefcase with them. The other what looked like a parasol.

They walked over to where Oboro and Saburo were standing to greet them.

"Good afternoon Shinozaki/Iga Oboro, Kirihara Saburo. My boss and very dear partner. Andre Nathaniel sends his greetings and admiration to fellow crafters of our art, that he is a big fan of your wrestling. Along that it would a great honour to be work with you if we come to an accord today." Came the soft sounding voice with flamboyance and what Oboro assume was some scottishness mixed in its tone.

Fan snapped shut to reveal their guests face. Right eye winking at them as they stood with confidence.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Maclean Akira, Personal Assistant to the Director of Intelligence of Europe for the Golden Company. Andre Nathan, whom has entrusted me the honour of meeting you face-to-face in order to discuss business and if possible, a contract for our services." A deep bow from the trio followed from their introduction.

To which Oboro and Saburo returned, though a bit awkwardly from Saburo due to the sight they were seeing. Oboro also had to stop herself from bowing too low, lest the pain of her stomach plays up again. Which thankfully had eased a little after taking her pills earlier.

Oboro had to blink to make sure what she was seeing was what she thought she was seeing.

She gave Miss Maclean a through look just to make sure she was seeing what she was seeing.

Their face... painted up in makeup with particular red eyeshadow/eyeliner under her eyes. The calmness of a deep blue sea in their eyes as they slyly looked at Oboro and Saburo. Eyelashes layered in a slight tint of mascara. Rose pink gloss over their lips practically grinning as they giggled a bit more. Opera looking gloves gloated in white covering their hands. Long amalyest tinted hair flowing on their shoulders, while the top was wrapped in a golden tier on it's top like a Geisha would have their hair made up. Oboro continued to scan over Akira's body, but then she noticed something that caught her attention. The neck, was that a Adam's apple she could see sticking out of it? Was this someone who is or used to be a man? Or was this a man… in disguise as a woman?

No, Oboro thought. She could not and would not jump to conclusions.

Oboro had seen her fair share of undercover antics over the years, a fair number of women had disguised as men during some operations she had taken part in (even she had to chop her hair at one point to make it more boyish), one or two men as women. Especially since the Shinozaki masks could hide or morph their facial structure to allow them to become the person they are impersonating. Along with a good wig, reasonable mimicking of a person's voice or accent (tech could come in handy there with the right sound engineer to work it has her mother's clan often kept tabs on). Masked tape could pad up an appearance to an extent as well. But this one was certainly… unique.

'Well, this is certainly something I wasn't expecting. What exactly is your game here Mr Andre, in sending this interesting individual to meet with us? Are you merely trying to fluster us? To show us what sort of people you have under your wing. Or, is this more aimed at getting Rabbit's attention considering the artefact in Pendragon being taken from Britannian hands caught her eye? Either way. You have certainly caught our attention with sending Maclean to meet with us.'

Oboro quickly glanced at her husband and what he was thinking, who looked very unhappy at what they were seeing. She touched his hand to steady his emotions.

He steady removed his frames to rub his eyes. But kept them off, putting them away in his top pocket after wiping them with his handkerchief. Saburo always removed his glasses, when he wanted to make a point or was getting serious.

"Is this… is this supposed to be some kind of joke! If it is I am most certainly not amused. Who does your boss think he is to treat my wife in this regard by sending someone… like you. Especially within the confines of our own home!" Saburo raising his voice as he glared at the trio.

The two guards tensed up and probably would have whipped out their side pistols if their hands weren't already full. But Oboro saw Miss/Mr Maclean pull out their arm to stop them.

Oboro saw the grin on Miss/Mr Macleans grew bigger at her husband's comments. They were certainly seem unfazed by it.

"I assure you Kirihara-kun, this is no joke. I am exactly what your fine specs is showing you." Akira practically swishing along now as they came face to face with Oboro and Saburo, moving a bit of their hair to their ears. Their hips moving naturally as any woman.

Now Oboro see even more clearly of Miss/Mr Maclean's figure. While somewhat slender, Miss/Mr Maclean certainly had what looked like a taut toned build underneath his/her Kimono that hinted to… a fighting aura. Oboro was certain she could see a smidge of tattoo ink underneath the powdered neck area, no surprise considering the sort of people who wear tattoos in Japan. Is that why they were wearing gloves as well? To cover possible tattoos on it. It would explain why they were wearing opera style gloves. Along with the smell of, strawberry aroma was it across their body? It certainly gave a somewhat… pleasant feel and smell to them. She also caught a whiff of what she was certain was shaving cream, or aftershave since she could always smell her husband's aftershave in the mornings when she kisses him. If the very light stubble marks and very light color of reddish skin buried under the face make up hinted to.

"You can call me Mr Maclean if it will make you more comfortable and at ease with me, don't worry, I don't bite or have cooties. Your lovely wife can call me Miss Maclean. But I do hope you grant me the honour of calling me Akira. Wouldn't want to keep flustering you or making you blush on which prefix to use." Ms-Akira said smoothly as they winked again at the pair. Even going as far to give her husband a little poke on the nose.

Saburo stayed silent as emotions clearly raffled through their head, anger along with an attempt not to blush at such a sly comment were clear on his face, an attempt that failed as the roses of his cheek showed. Oboro knew she needed to say something to clear this awkwardness and get down to business.

Time to bring out the Mrs happy smile. Both corners of her lips went straight up to her brows.

"Akira I think would be best. You can call me Oboro in return. It's a pleasure to meet you." Oboro replied as she seek to regain control of things. Holding out her hand in return to show her pleasantry.

Akira gripped Oboro's hand in return, somewhat strongly despite the smooth feeling of their silky opera glove feeling her palms with a tingle. She did not like people who did strong handshakes. She found it to be macho chauvinism at play. A woman's hand was as precious to her as her hair.

"Likewise, Oboro. It's a pleasure to meet such a charming and beautiful woman. I love the way your grey skirt goes with your black shirt, and the way you have your straight hair fit your beret. I appreciate a person with fine taste." Akira practically singsong their response. Oboro merely smiled at the compliment.

Saburo held out his hand afterwards, to which Akira met with equal force as both gave neither ground to the other.

"Just to enquire, do you prefer Kirihara-kin or Saburo-kun? Just so i know which one to use." Akira enquired with a slight little smirk forming as they maintained their tight grip.

"Mr Kirihara would suffice for now thank you." Saburo replied without emotion. Giving an extra squeeze to Akira's hand, making his point clearly.

"Duly noted, Mr Kirihara it is. I do hope to earn the honour of saying your first name in future. Saburo is a most lovely name for the third child of Kirihara Taizo." Akira cheeky said as they ended their little handshake moment.

Oboro could feel her husband grinding his teeth as he put his hand behind his back for a slight second. Oboro knew her husband hated being reminded of the fact he was the son of Kirihara Taizo. Since in Japanese society, particularly with a father like Taizo. The eldest male came first, something Saburo's elder sister was most bitter about, quite rightly Oboro thought. It didn't help that Taizo would always bring up the fact their eldest child, who was a boy according to Saburo, had died in a fire accident years ago.

Something to which her father in law never talked about if brought up or angry shuts down anyone who tries to offer condolences over it. Even Maiko wouldn't talk about it after she brought it up once when it was just the two of them. While secrets were a habit of Oboro's life and stuff Kyoto house practically trade in. To be this closed up about it made Oboro suspect there was more to it than anyone would admit.

'I wonder, does Saburo know any more than I do on their eldest sibling and the accident that claimed them?'

Oboro put her hand on his wrist to get him to stop. The hippish guard sent a slight nod to Oboro, seemly it looks they agreed with her about the pettiness of it all.

The smirk falling from Akira's face as they formed a more serious demeanour.

"I imagine I was not what you were expecting to see today. Let me assure you here and now, my dear Nathaniel means you no insult in sending me to meet with you, he entrusts me a lot to meet with any potential clients on his behalf when he is either unable to as he currently is or when he has a personal interest in the client. He also thought it would be most prudent for you to meet with one of the few that has a smirch of Japanese blood within the Golden Company, to make it more comfortable for yourselves. Please take my presence today as an indication of Nathaniel's trust and seriousness in wanting to do business with you, which I assure you, he does not give out lightly. Shall we proceed to get our discussion underway? As much as I have enjoyed this introduction. I believe it's time to get down to business." Akira spoke softly and stretched their arm out to the seating area.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. We are most interested to hear more of what your boss has to offer us." Oboro quickly replied as they took to being seated. Akira's two guards finding it a bit hard to seat themselves with the uniform they had on, even after they laid their guns and items on the side. Akira sauntered over to their seat, gracefully sitting down on the cushion, back straight and tall. Kimono layered out at all angles, from far glance. You would think you were seeing a graceful Japanese woman from top to bottom and not what Akira seemed they were.

Especially with the way the two guards seem to have no problem following Akira's lead as they handed Akira papers, folders with Akira thanking them with a pat on the arm

Oboro certainly thought from Akira's demeanour and the effort they have obviously put into their presentation, looks and movement.

That there was in some form, a woman within the layers of their male origin. Or at least crossdressing was something that was part of their identity and helped to express themselves to the world. She didn't have trouble with it at all, but knew the world was not as kind as to someone being different. An old saying she heard a lot as a child was that the hammer nails down any nails that stick out or causes any disruption to the harmony. Something which certain people she knew took to with a vigour that scared her.

So to come dressed up and stick out the way Akira has. To which she admits without hesitation, is a fearless thing to do. When many people are often quite apprehensive in dealing with something they don't usually deal with or conflicts with what they believe or were brought up to believe.

Oh sure, some of the women at the Kyoto House gatherings would joke about fantasizing or writing about male teenagers being in love or doing it. Or Rabbit herself in her drunken phrases teased Haru about how he would look good in a dress and make up with how pretty he was (and still is) when they were younger, which everytime led to him hiding his face in one of his hats he loved to wear. But to actually deal with it face to face. Well that's where people's words either become wind or gain the fire they claim it to have.

She was actually interested in finding out more about Akira if things go well here. What sort of story and life had Akira had? What was it about women clothes that made them want to wear them so openly? Oboro always welcomes an opportunity to expand her horizons/viewpoint. Akira would certainly be just that.

It also made her wonder more on what sort of person Mr Andre really was. She couldn't think of anyone she had ever dealt with that had someone like Akira come and deal with people of their statue. Most would take it as an insult or think this was some joke as her husband thought it was. But Oboro, knowing what they knew of Mr Andre from their intel and of the quirkiness he displayed in the video they had watched.

'He's testing us isn't he? To see how we react to something very few would expect to happen. That and also because he likes to apparently be cheeky. What with the way Akira has ruffled my husband already and the way their eyes seem to be reading us for a reaction every moment of this meeting. But to trust a unique person like Akira with this level of business indicates he is open minded or believes in giving social outcasts a chance? Or might be one himself in some way. Either way, I have gotten a good amount of detail, insight and information into him that will interest Rabbit. She will certainly will find Akira fascinating to meet with.'

"Before we start, please let me say that I really love how you have designed your guest room. It has a charm to it that I find many meeting rooms often don't. Not every day I have the pleasure of a duck looking down on us while sitting on such smooth cushions that really feel good for my bottom. And what a pleasant breeze and aroma coming from your gardens as well. You certainly know how to please your guests. Which in my experiences as PA to the Director of Intelligence for Europe, is not a courtesy we get from many of our clients, some have been less than kind or inflexible in dealing with people like us. To which we greatly appreciate the effort you have gone to receive us." Akira said as their eyes sparkled and words of flattery flew.

"Thank you for your kind comments." Oboro softly smiling at the compliment, to which Akira returned.

Though she wondered if Akira was saying it to put them at ease and was sincere, if they were flustering them again, or possibly trying to influence them. Well it was probably a mix of all three. A woman's courtesy, along with flattery can go a long way in any meeting or in breaking the ice. Which Akira seems to understand that fact very well. Something her husband, Taizo and Rabbit could learn to appreciate more.

"Not to be so abrupt, but could we get this meeting underway. I would very much like to spend the rest of the afternoon with our daughter." Saburo curtly spoke up.

"Of course Mr Kirihara, I don't want to keep you from spending time with your loved ones. We will be as brief as we can be considering the subjects we are about to discuss." Akira said as they cleared their throat lightly, taking a deep breath before they continued.

"The Golden Company has been keeping an eye on the situation in China for a while now. Like any company, we have an interest in expanding ourselves into new areas of operations. Especially with the likely scenario of war between the differentiating circumstances in different parts of China and the countries they share a border or sea with. Along with according to our sources within Vermillion. Of the growing tensions between Emperor Xiang, the Eunuch, his generals and ministers. All of whom seem to packed into different factions of supporting either his heir apparent the Crown Prince, or his daughter, Princes Hui Ying for the throne if he does abdicate. To whom has reached out to both of us from the meeting I believe you have witnessed before this meeting am I correct?" Akira detailed out as they passed out photos and sheets to Oboro and Saburo.

Photos of Emperor Xiang and Empress Wu, cladded in full ceremonial robes. Sitting attentively their thrones, faces stone faced and regal, back fully straight. All the while what seemed to be the Ten Eunuchs, Minister of the Government Xu Ding and his cabinet. Chinese army figures that Oboro knew from the work of Goru in the area. Major Generals Xinghe and Liu, Colonel Ma, franking the Crown Prince all arguing as court was held within the Imperial Palace in Vermillion. With Hui looking disheartened by it all with her aides and MSS Minister Roku looking on beside her.

"We have yes, Agents Akane and Hikaru filled us in with the full details of what happened and passed on the footage of it as well." Oboro replied.

"I do hope you found all of it informative, we were able to get a fair amount of insider details on the current situation between the factions thanks to Princess Ying's aide being forthcoming in the princesses intentions and current plans if things do escalate to war." Akira continued on.

"Exactly what are those intentions and plans? And how do we, you, the Maharani's and their people, potentially factor into all this?" Saburo enquired, left eyebrow raised to state their scepticism.

Akira took a big loud sip of the green tea set out on their table before responding. Eyeing Saburo specifically as they waited for a response. Body language matching Oboro's to show interest.

"Did your agents not inform you of what went on in our little meeting of everyone's intention?"

"Of course they did, but I am interested to find out how your company. That is a mercenary organization, fits into all of this and why, beyond what you have already told us?" Saburo pushed further.

Okay, now her touch was needed here. Hand came down on her husbands to quell his aggressive approach. As a Britannian would say, she was the dove to her husband's hawk.

"We would greatly appreciate your input and viewpoint in this matter. As it will help us to come to an accord that benefits all of us." Oboro interjected, trying to keep their meeting cordial.

"Thank you for your kind words Oboro, the answer to your question Mr Kirihara, is quite simple. We all want to avoid a war that could potentially be the death of hundreds of thousand, if not millions of people across Asia. But we also want stability and prosperity to return to all of our respective countries, we do have a continent, a country that me and Nathaniel have a duty to seeing rebuilt, to which relates to our own… personal reasons for doing what we do. Princess Ying in particular according to her aide, seeks to reform her country by convincing her father to proceed with his intentions into loosening the rule of the monarchy so more powers are given to the people. Along with economic reforms to open up more trade and opportunities for the peasant class. While I do not speak for dear Nathanial's Indian allies, I will note they know full well that any attempt to liberate India and secure their people's future. Will rely on making sure that China will not try and replace Britannia as their people's rulers. Something they are convinced will be the case if Emperor Xiang is replaced by his son. If his abdication does go through next month as he has indicated will be the case among his court. Whom has made clear on more than one occasion harbouring ambitions of wanting China to dominate the Asian continent in all ways possible. The lad seems to have a grandeur view that he can unite all of Asia into one. Not unlike some of our own people's ideas in the past and present of Japan ruling over Asia.

"A scenario is one that is of no benefit to anyone, expect for the Crown Prince and the generals that surround him, to which I'm sure has occurred to you. However, we are a mercenary company that lacks in the numbers needed to fight a war against the beast that is China. Thus is how we fit into all of this Mr Kirihara. Plus, Princess Ying via her aide has already asked us to provide support in case of the worst case scenario that leads to war. Something to which Nathaniel would very much to cooperate with you on considering we share mutual interests in China, along with that it is the wish to present the gift of a family artefact to be delivered to your friend, Sumeragi Natsumi Oboro." Akira finished outline to the room.

"What gift?" Saburo asked confusedly with his brows raised. Oh darn Oboro thought. It must be about that artefact that got Rabbit's interest in the first place.

"A gift that is for Sumeragi Natsumi's eyes only. I do apologise for being unable to go into detail about it. But Nathaniel was insistent on my lips keeping shush on the matter." Akira said as they shut one eyes to bring their finger to their lips. Playing coyly again with them.

"Tsh, I'm sure he does." Saburo just shook his head at that remark in disbelieve.

Okay, Oboro had taken the minute to digest everything Akira had said, but needed to dig in deeper into it. Keeping her face blank so as not to give anything away. She eyed Akira as she asked the next question they had.

"Moving on, we understand your position and the desire of your boss to expand into Asia and support his allies in India, along with that there is a matter of business between him and Sumeragi Natsumi in all of this. But what I find somewhat peculiar is that you would seek to aid Princess Hui in the event of a civil war and not her brother? Isn't it a tenancy for mercenary companies to side with whoever would pay or is likeliest to win in war? Considering the Crown Prince would have most of the military backing him if it did come to war. Could you explain how you think Hui could overcome this problem to rise about her brother to the throne?" Oboro asked with a polite, but firm touch.

Oboro saw Akira giggling again as they covered their mouth.

"Ooh, you are insightful Oboro. A true delight to be dealing with. No wonder my Nathaniel wants to be working with you." Akira cooed in their response. Even giddily raising their fists in delight like a child.

"To satisfy your question, yes the Crown Prince and his generals abilities is most certainly an equation we have taken into account. While their chances of winning are certainly favourable. They are not assured, The Crown Prince has very mixed support among the eunuchs, who fear he will purge them in due time or affect their status with his warmongering. The government and businesses elders are worried he will bankrupt the country in his endemic to be replicate Lu Bu. Britannia will also not approve of a China that could threaten their military might and position within Asia. Hence part of why they export weapons and other items so much to keep China dependent on them. Nor I'm sure you will approve considering the very thin balance that keeps your independence. Considering he will eye the precious Sakuradite to fund his war efforts and improve the level of technology China is currently at, which is very lacking compared to Britannia and the EU. As Zhao Tai once said, An unarmed state is vulnerable, a bankrupt state is doomed.

Officials in Southern China, local leaders around the Tibetan area that border India. Have also expressed their discomfort at his actions and comments on northern Chinese people being superior to them or the way disappearances have happened while he was overseeing the area a decade ago. Something which Princess Ying has spoken out about on a few occasions. During which she supported the possibility of China giving Tibet independence in the future or at least autonomy. Her plans to recognise India if they gain independence from Britannia has support among the business community who are looking to expand their trade. The final element also being, if the Crown Prince does decide to go to war. He will have to fight a war on more than one front. To which history has shown to disfavour even the most brilliant of people." Akira confidently replied to Oboro's question.

"On more than one front? You think we will go to war with China simply because they might threaten us?"

"You already are aren't you? Your Prime Minister according to our sources is planning to resign in the next week or two over it. I do think a military man like yourself Mr Kirihara understands the situation that is happening. Regardless of what happens at the conference. Will mean Japan will likely send a measurable force to at least protect itself in the process. Our people haven't kept independence for so many years just because we have the largest sakuradite deposit. It's because you know that we have to keep our swords ready to unsheathe at all times. Hence part of why you attacked Russia during our war in Europe. Britannia will send a force to the region in some form or another since Emperor Malcolm is desperate to keep his credentials among the war hawks in Britannian courts with what happened with Viceroy Soresi in our video, they will demand consequences happen to General Xinghe for his intrusion into 'Britannia' territory."

"And the matter on you being a merc company and your agenda in all of this?" Oboro pushed again, Akira this time thinning their lips a bit.

"Yes, we are a mercenary company. But we do not choose to side with someone simply because they pay the most or because they seem the likeliest to win. As we have found, they tend to be the ones who break their word or bond you the most, commit the most war crimes. Or harm the people the most. We always evaluate each side in a conflict. So that we know we will be doing business with the side that will be beneficial in the long run to their country, their people and of course, be best for business for us as well." Akira said with a bit more force.

"Really, with all due respects. Explain to me how this collates to some of the dictators and unsavoury people of Africa you have been supporting in recent years? How does those elements fit in with what you have just said." Saburo asked sarcastically.

"My my Mr Kirihara, you are certainly a man of fine statue and one that likes to get straight to the fact and challenges. I can see why your darling wife is married to you."

"To satisfy your curiosity. The discretion of the Golden Company's actions in Africa are down due to the fact they are overseen by the higher-ups within our organization. To which the division of Europe that I am part of, only deals or works with when it is required, we mostly deal with the current climate happening within Eastern Europe and within the EU's territories. The powers that be often dictate Nathaniel's counterpart there to work with those they believe will serve their matters best, along with their own discretion into handling the different leaders of the African countries and the groups there. Britannia's intrusions in Northern Africa and near the Middle East/Eastern Europe with Euro Britannia contribute to this as well. Sometimes, we find ourselves dealing with those that we would rather not deal with in order to reach our goals, our time in Russia led us to compromise in places, but not to compromise in others. Something you Saburo Kirihara, know all too well from your time in the army during the Russia-EU war with what you and your generals did in Vladstosk?" Akira countered.

The final words caused Saburo to nearly rise from his feet. Only Oboro's hand on his wrist kept him from leaping up.

'Don't rise to the challenge Saburo, that's what she wants you to do.' Oboro sent Akira a frown and raised eyebrow for provoking her husband, Akira merely nodded in return. Not flinching or changing their stature.

"What-is that-supposed-to-mean?" Saburo grunted each word out with his voice deepening. Hands firmly on the Tatami mat now, practically clenching to them despite the sprinkles in them digging into Saburo's palms.

"An observation based on our intelligence and of the Russians who lived to tell the tale to their comrades and siblings who took part in the resistance we worked have told us, nothing more. I do not seek to judge you Mr Kirihara for doing what most trained in the Military are often ordered to do. But please do not seek to judge us because of your negativity about merc companies or what you think… of people like me. We are in the same line of duty and often find ourselves serving under those that are, unscrupulous shall we say when they want to be." Akira obustlety replied.

Eye contact never breaking from either Akira or Saburo. Hands on the side guns from the guards Akira had with her, this time she wasn't putting her hand out to stop them. Oboro could see Hanzo beckonly sliding a hand up the kunai by their side. She lightly shook her head out to stop him from acting on any impulse swelling in their hand no doubt.

The tensions in the room were practically more freezing than a snowy day. Oboro could really feel it shiver her neck and shoulders that her shirt wasn't covering.

Enough was enough. Oboro had to do what a Hen had to do. Clearing her throat, standing up slowly to prevent any pain. Looming as the silent engagement continued on. Spreading her arms out, as if to embrace the world. Yellow duck at the helm in the background. Mouth open as the room heard a thundering...

*QUACK*

She ducked out as everyone in the room stopped on their tracks at the sudden noise

"Right, this has gone way off course. Too much quacking afoot here. I think we should return to the matter we were at hand with. No Ifs, buts or any excuses understood!" Oboro beamed to the room.

Quick nods followed as she finally feathered back down onto her cushion. Smile returning as she took a long sip of her tea in triumph.

Taking a deep breath, Akira's demeanour softened to its original affable from and their grin returned.

"I respect you have doubts about us and the goals we have put forth to you today, but please allow me to assure you. If you decide to work with us. You will find we are professional in every way, fully committed to upholding the tenants of war where possible. Committed to working with our allies no matter what difficulties and differences we have. A mix unit of intelligence, military and support that includes people like myself, my boss and others that served in the EU-Russia war and others in the five years that has led us to build a reputation as one of the best in the world at what we do. Others that were abandoned by those that should be caring for them or have no home to return to because of circumstances outside of their control. That we practically adopt and care for, not unlike what you do Oboro with some of your students. We are all fighting for something, something which requires us to work together to achieve. Because we cannot fight the enemies that sliver around in the oceans and lands that surround us alone. That is what i do know and understand and I'm sure you do as well." Akira stopped to take a breath before they spoke again. Drinking the rest of their tea in the process.

"Along with that it will win you favour and connections, not just the Golden Companies Indian allies. But those in Europe that are watching the situation carefully. They would look fondly on Japan if the situation in China is resolved with your aid and potentially allows them more beneficial trade with Japan on Sakuradite. No doubt Kyoto House would be interested in gaining more influence among countries in the EU. Your father especially Mr Kirihara. "

"Yes, I'm sure he would be."

"Anyways, I think we talked more than enough today. I don't want to keep you from your daughter any longer than i have already. So allow me to leave you with a few items." Akira finished as they slowly got back up on their feet. Straightening the Kimono as the burly guard handed a few items to them.

Oboro and Saburo both raised up from their seats as well.

"Please read and if you wish, pass these on when you are ready to." Akira then put down a file on the table that contained a few documents sealed in confidential large letterheads. To which Oboro had Hanzo take to store in a safe place.

"They contain a contract for our services, signed on our end and ready to be put into action whenever you are ready. We do not expect you to sign until you have conversed with Sumeragi Natsumi and taken the time to consider your options as our people are generally known to do. But I will express that with the way things went in India, the fact is we need to act as swift as possible in making sure that we do not fall behind, as our enemies will not be idling by either in making their next move. We at the Golden Company also want to give to you a gift to show his appreciation for your time in meeting us."

Akira then passed over a wooden pine box, to which once opened revealed a few items in them.

"A jar of Uncle Joe's mintballs that comes with a free toy car of back when they first started up in 1898, Nathaniel hopes that you enjoy a taste of Northern England. Along with that you know where the best sweet shop is in Tokyo." Wait, balls? Oboro had to stifle a laugh at hearing the word balls.

She always found words or something that sounded innuendo, dirty or somewhat... naughty, hilarious. She remembered on Saburo's 18th birthday, she had gotten him a little something, that had him blushing so hard that it was the cutest thing she had ever seen. It certainly made things rather pleasurable that night. After they had finished the delicious cake she had whipped up with Natsumi and her mother in law.

"Something funny Oboro?" Akira enquired with a curious eye.

"No, sorry. Something popped in my mind for a second. Please continue with the gifts." Oboro said, her smile now more sly as Akira continued to pass out the items from the box.

"A book on the EU-Russian war for Mr Kirihara, he hopes you enjoy the detailed chapters of the military tactics used by the EU Generals and the operations that happened in Afghanistan and on the Eastern Europe front." Akira continued.

Saburo was a bit surprised at the gift for himself. Oboro could tell he wasn't expecting for Akira and her boss to do that.

"Oh, well thank you and your boss for your consideration." Saburo said softly, grateful for the gift of the book.

"Along with finally a wrestling video that you might find interesting Oboro to watch." Akira finished handing over the video cassette to her.

"Oh, I will have to check it out then." Oboro bowed to show her appreciation for the gift.

"He hopes that you do, after all. We were auditioning for your wrestling company after all." Akira winked again at Oboro.

She merely nodded in return.

Okay, Oboro thought it was time to wrap this up fully since everything had been discussed and heard. Though that had taken longer than all had cared to admit.

"Is that everything you wanted to present us with today? If so, we thank you very much for your time and will let you know within the next week of ours and Natsumi's answer. Though I'm sure she will want to meet with you before whenever your boss plans to come over if we agree." Oboro stated matter of factly before bowing with Saburo. Akira and her guards returned in kind.

"Naturally, thank you again for your hospitality and taking the time to meet with us, please send Sumeragi Natsumi our regards." Akira then turned to leave before turning with a finger to their chin.

"Oh yes, one final bit before I forget, since you haven't had the pleasure to see a picture or clear video of my Nathaniel yet. Please allow me to provide you and Natsumi with a photo you might find, a little cheeky."

 

* * *

 

 

"Ah, so nice to finally be able to walk in my socks and boots again. My feet always feels so rough after being on that Tatami mat for so long." Oboro gleamed as she gave her wiggles a real stretching in her brownish boots and the soft cotton pink socks she was wearing within them. She would have done a handstand or stretch her legs on the wall if she had the time to. But hey ho.

That had been a productive meeting in her mind. They had gotten a real sense of what GC were after, of what they knew already in China and what she knows as well. A good insight into Mr Andre's character from Akira and of the Golden Company.

She took another look at the photo of Mr Andre while she waited Saburo to come out from the toilet.

Mr Andre, was standing in a nicely detailed suit, with a blueish tie and black short sleeve shirt from the way the suits arms look droopy at Mr Andre's palms, in the English city Akira had noted was called Newcastle, the allure of the winter sun beaming down on his short chocolate trim with a bit of pomade that made it slick in places. Red sunglasses covering whatever was the color of Mr Andres eyes. A wide grin that behold the scars on Mr Andres lips and cheeks. Oboro wondered how he got that sort of scar. Akira seemed to go a bit gleemish when Saburo asked abruptly about them. While grinning, Mr Andre giving both v signs in each hand.

'As Akira said, a rather cheeky photo to send us Mr Andre. You certainly seem to like getting under people's skin and being a mystery with your antics and people you have around. It's easy to see why they call you the snake within our world. But what skin is the one that is truly you I wonder?'

By both Oboro knew Mr Andre was practically giving a peace sign, and a really cheeky one her husband found to be rather crude. She knew what it meant from having seen Rabbit copy it from her favourite foreign films when younger and more innocent. She had made the mistake of doing it in front of Phillippe Malcal, head of the Malcal noble family and also a Lieutenant Gene Smilas at a gathering of Kyoto House and European leaders and businessmen back in the mid-80s, not realising how rude it was to westerners. While Mr Malcal an Smilas waved it off at the time. Kaida-sama and Taizo had ripped into Rabbit afterwards and barred her from attending any events and watching anymore films until she made up for her faux pas by working in one of the Sumeragi factories for the summer.

Rabbit being Rabbit. Managed to turn this round and was basically supervising the production line by the end of it. Putting up production up to 20% by convincing the managers to allow staff more breaks, buy new technology to improve production time. Along with finishing early on Fridays to go out for drinks. Who was going to say no to Sumeragi Natsumi when she wanted something her own way. But Rabbit had said she had come out of it all with a real appreciation for what the workers do for her family's companies. So at least a positive came out of her flipping off people.

Saburo came out a minute later, still in a mood after seeing the photo and Akira blowing a kiss his way as she exited the room. She took his hand in hers, one thing she always loved about her husband's palm, was that they were always warm and helped to warm up her own hands, that were often cold due to bad circulation in her body. Plus, it felt so nice just to tickle his hand with her fingers every now and then.

"So glad that's all over with. It's always a hassle to bear with. Honestly, to send someone like that to meet us, that Andre fellow really has a lot of nerve to send us… that cheeky insult and one of him giving us that insult. All this for what? Natsumi's interests, I'm failing to see how any of this is in our own interests." Saburo whinged as soon as they were out of their meeting with Akira and walking through the Shinozaki Dojo. Unbuttoning the top of his collar.

Goodness sake, every-single-time this happens when they meet him. Right Oboro thought, it was confrontation time.

"You don't have to sound so dour about it. I know what we just went through... wasn't ideal or what we were expecting. But it does neither of us any favour to be so negative about it when it has provided us with a range of options to choose from." Oboro said, giving a hard squeeze to her husband's hand to express her disapproval.

This brought something up that annoyed Oboro whenever they were together hand in hand, which often got them some pointed looks from people wherever they were out in public. Or Taizo expressing his disapproval for being public with their affection. Honestly, it was such an annoyance to deal with. Why should they not allowed to show their loved one affection when they go about their business? Young people do it all the time, is it the fact they are both middle aged and not a bunch of young blushing sweethearts that causes this reaction? It was something that Oboro really found so agonizing to deal with.

"What? You expect me to be even remotely cheerful about having to deal with all of this? Of dealing with my father's constant interfering in my life and all that comes with it? Of being expected to do this, do that all the time? After the way he treats my elder sister, my younger brother, who you know he locked away… in that place. Yes, all of that really makes me want to be super cheerful about everything we do!" Saburo said as Oboro felt his hand slip away from hers abruptly, now he was going into one of his moods.

Armed folded as he pouted and the frown deepened even further as he looked up at the huge ceiling of the Dojo's main entrance.

Oboro could feel the negativity basically smudging up inside and out of her husband.

Right, time to intervene. She marched right into his path as he stopped to look her in the eyes in return, steadying herself in her boots, thank god she was almost as tall as him of his 5'7 height. Looking her husband right in the eyes as she brought his head down to look at her by grabbing his chin The Mrs angry eyes she wears when she has to get strict with someone bearing out, fists on hips. Now he had done it.

"You think it's easy for me to deal with the tensions between you and your father. With all the business that it brings? Of having to balance between supporting you as wife and husband, respecting him and being polite at all times, upholding the duty and honour of my clan, maintaining my authority, my voice in a sea of egos and blood status trumping all dealing with masochism on a daily basis and guests trying to get under our skins. Read-my-lips Saburo Kirihara right now… it-most-certainly-is-not! Which isn't helped when you act the way you did today toward your father and to Akira, who was clearly agitating you to see how you would react." Oboro roared out as her finger prodded into her husband's chest.

"I don't expect you to smile when you clearly don't want to, I don't expect you to bend backwards or approve of everything your father as I most certainly don't, who was a good friend to my own father, who by the way along with my mother are dead as you well know. Does or says. But I do expect you to make the effort to be cordial enough and work with him like I do, because he is your father, my father in law and the grandfather to our daughter. You are both all I have left of my parents and your mother. I want our daughter to grow up in a household that isn't toxic or rife with negativity like yours was when we were growing up. Not least because this tension serves no one. But also because we cannot risk the chance of infighting between our clans or the other Kyoto Houses to gain leverage over us." Oboro continued on.

"Taizo's slights against your younger brother, against your elder sister. They are his to bear and for him to face. I'm not saying don't hold it against him or remind him to do better in making amends with them. But do not put all of on yourself. Remember… i am your wife and here to support you, as I expect you to support me. You know and understand that fact Saburo Kirihara." Oboro finally finished her dressing down.

Silence shrouded the pair as they kept their eyes on each other. The echo of the winds filling the hallway of the Dojo. Oboro remembers how as a child, she would shout out to hear her echoes. She had jumped up with Rabbit on her back to echo different words for hours on ends.

Oboro could see her husband's shoulder shrink as he took a large breath through his nose. Hand over his face, creasing the lines on the forehead all the while.

She put her hand on his right cheek, caressing the shaved bits of hair riddled rough surface of it.

His eyes softening from its hardened state as she held her hand to his cheek.

"I know Oboro… I know. Duty to my family, honour to my father, Service to my country, my pact to my wife, my responsibility to our daughter. All of these… semantics, burns on me at times. So many responsibilities, so many conflicts. So many being caught up in plays and schemes that have nothing to do with them. The fury that rages among our youth. The lack of leadership from those we trust to lead us. All of which we have bear witness to so many times that it has lost so much meaning. Everything seemed simple when we were young, yet it never was. But these complexes… are just such a burden to deal with" Oboro listened has her husband went on.

She knew how difficult he found it to speak about what he was feeling.

"I know how hard you work with me to keep it all balanced. To which, I greatly appreciate. As mother said to me on the day we took our vows, you are the Yin to my Yang. Not that it makes me anymore like father." Saburo said as gave a little smirk at his remark.

Oboro couldn't resist smiling at his closing marks. The irony of what she had said earlier today about her parents in law made it even sweeter.

"What?" Saburo asked, all confused at why Oboro was smiling.

"Sorry, it's nothing dear…" Oboro reassured him with a kiss on the lips.

This at least elicited a slight smile from her husband.

She took a deep breath to calm herself from all this excitement. She never liked getting this way with anyone. But the Mother Hen had to do what a Mother Hen has to do. Young or old. Especially when she was dealing with a wall the size of Matsumoto castle that was her husband.

"Anyways… shall we be off to be with our daughter?" Oboro holding out her hand with her warmest smile.

A nod and grasp her hand was all that was needed to be said. As they made their way to their daughter who was waiting for them at the Dojo's gates.

She could see Akira, carrying their parasol and her guards walking by gracefully as the sakura blossoms ferry around in the air. As they saw Taizo walking up with Sayoko holding his hand from the gardens, Oboro could his eyes nearly pop out at seeing the sight of Akira, or at the very least seeing Adam's apple. Dai who was standing behind him practically gush at seeing Akira. Akira merely gave a bow to him, but when she tried to rub Sayoko's head. Taizo pulled her away from him. Akira merely sighed and continued to walk on with her guards.

Once that was out of the way, Taizo continued walking with Sayoko, smiling brightly as he talked to his granddaughter with Dai standing at his side, still wearing a grin on her face. Sayoko started doing cartwheels, handstands and other such moves in order to show her grandfather just was she was learning, all the while smiling brightly. To which he patted her head once she was done.

'Taizo, why can't you be like that with everyone else as well? You are better than many people give you credit. You owe it to Maiko, who loved you warts and all as an English man once said. You most certainly owe it to your children as well as me.'

Her charcoal hair all messed up, she liked to keep it somewhat wild as kids often do in their early years. Saburo's hazels glittering with joy as her purple t shirt and pink shorts completed her look.

Taizo looked up to see them approaching as the limo drove up behind him on the road ready to take him back to Tokyo.

"So, how did you meeting with that… person who came walking through with the parasol and armed guards from the Golden Company? I had to stop them from rubbing my granddaughter's head, you know what they often carry. What sort of person sends an insult like that." Taizo queried as the frown returned deeply and hands gripped the cane even more than usual.

"Fine father, it went fine thank you, we will regale with details another time. How has your time with our daughter. You looked positively happy as you walked with her."

"Very good thank you very good, the Kirihara and Shinozaki bloodline runs strongly through her. She will make all of us proud I am certain. Heh, seems the flower of Japan's youth will truly blossom after all." Taizo said as he closed his eyes and smile serenely.

"Anyways, we must be off back to Tokyo. I have a meeting tomorrow with the other heads. No doubt Hidenobu and Tousai will have much to talk about. Along with the odious that is Tatsunori and Tori as well. Take care… son." He bowed slightly, but not too low.

Dai bowed more deeper.

"You too… father." Saburo and Oboro returned the bow, deeper so as to show respect.

"Goodbye Sayoko, hope to see you again soon." Taizo spoke more softer as he patted his granddaughters head once more.

"I hope so Grandfather, next time i will show you my helicopter move that i have been working on."

Taizo and Dai then got into the limousine and drove off.

"Finally, alone at last." Saburo whispered quietly.

"Dad!" Sayoko beamed, smiling happily as the glow in her hazel filled eyes sparkled as she ran and jumped into the arms of her father. Hugging him strongly, to which he returned.

"Sayoko."

Once they had finished, he passed her into the arms of Oboro. Strong hug as well between them before Oboro put her daughter back on the ground as well.

"Hey Mum, check out the ori-origami's that I made during our class today. " Sayoko said as she digged her origami out from her pockets. While a bit crumpled up. Still were accurate renderings of the crane bird.

"My my Sayoko, what marvellous work these are. I am so proud of you." Oboro gave her daughter another hug.

"Mum."

"Hmm, moments like this make all the headaches and annoyances we've had today well worth it." Saburo said as he sat and leaned against the pillar of the Dojo entrance.

Oboro took a seat as well on the edge, putting her chin on her left hand. Letting the wonders of springs fill the air in, the beauty of the sakura flew across the winds. Almost as bright as the dusk of the ever glowing sun set.

"Indeed Saburo, indeed."

Silence fell apart from the laugh of their daughter. Oboro closed her eyes, as she enjoyed the ever blissful of peace they enjoy.


	5. Bricks In The Wall

**A/N: Hi everyone, here is the chapter that I have decided to do that is pretty much a interlude between the main and side chapters of Roanapur Connection. That covers a few bits in the timeline provides a look into Akira Maclean. Personal Assistant to Nathan Andre from Beyond Akira and so on.  
  
This is part one of it after I got writing creep again. Part Two will be ready to go up by the end of the weekend for sure.  
  
Peace Sells But Who's Buying is almost done now, it’s brilliant and we are really happy with what we have done with it. We can’t wait to release it for all for you to see. We thank you for your continued patience despite the setbacks since the first chapter was released last April. I always want to make sure that every chapter is top standard, to the fullest it can be despite my long working hours and other commitments I have and my own perfectionism in wanting chapters to be to the high standard I hold myself to.   
  
I wish I could update more often but I simply don’t get enough time to write as much as I would like and coming up with the amount of original material for RC since Code Geass has very little Canon info on the 90’s takes a fair amount of time to think through, make sure it makes sense, fits both CG and Black Lagoon canon and to write with all of the above happening.  
  
But enough rambling from me.   
  
Hope you all enjoy the chapter.  
  
Thanks again everyone   
  
Blackmambauk**

* * *

 

****

 

 **[Date: 20/03/1995 ATB, Time: 7:00pm, Palace Hotel, Otemachi, Tokyo Japan]**  
  
Knock Knock Knock.  
  
“Just a minute.” Akira said as she put more pressure on the injection needle currently in her left shoulder as she sat on her toilet seat. Being careful to take it out carefully so as not to leave any marks.  
  
Putting the needle back in it’s box along with the bottle that came with it. Placing it alongside the bottles of pills that are all kept together and in order of daily routine of taking by the sink.  
  
Exiting the ensuite and pacing herself as she made her way to the door to open it. Swiping her favourite work scarf from the table. That was a pattern of different colors to wrap around her neck.  
  
She couldn’t wait to dine on what she had ordered.  
  
Opening the door to reveal a tuxedo wearing Waiter waiting for her.  
  
“Good Evening Madam, I have brought the itinerary of food that you ordered for Room Service.” The young waiter said as he held his hands on the tray he had brought up.  
  
“Thank you, please come in.” Akira opening the door fully to let them into her suite.  
  
“Where would you like this Madam?”   
  
“By the bed thank you.”   
  
The waiter then pushed the tray, wheels squeaking over the while rather crudely as Akira cringed at the sound of it. Stopping and then positioning the tray to be by the bed.  
  
Picking up the tray to reveal the full course of food Akira had ordered as they placed it on the dining table.   
  
Which included, Chicken Nanban, a dip of soy sauce, a large bowl of rice, tofu and some soba noodles to finish. Not the ideal Japanese meal her mother would have thought. But she wasn’t there so Akira could have what she wanted, she was a big woman after all and needed a good portion of food to fill up. Which included two desserts of not just Honey Toast with blueberries and ice cream on top, but a large Strawberry Crepe that was bound to make Nathaniel jealous.  
  
“Will there be anything else Madam?”  
  
“No that will be all thank you, here, for your service.” Akira then handed the waiter a envelope.   
  
Confused at the action, since Akira knew Japanese staff at hotels only expect a tip or thanks when guests leave, the waiter opened the envelope. His eyes widening at the amount inside.  
  
“M-madam, I can’t accept this.” The waiter closing it, pushing it back to Akira’s hands. Which Akira prevented by gentling putting it back in his hands. Letting her hair cover her left eye in the process as she leaned in closer to the waiter’s face with a hand on hip. Though not too close as to feel his breath on her as it was clear that he felt awkward by how much taller she was than him.   
  
“Please, I insist. I have too much money anyways, spreading it to those that need it more like yourself is a big part of my faith and my own principles on aiding others where possible. Besides, a little bit of extra money to buy something nice for yourself or your special someone isn’t such a bad thing is it? Don’t worry, it will be our little secret.” Akira said as gave the waiter a flirtatious smile and a little wink.   
  
Which made him blush a sea of red as he put the envelope into his jacket awkwardly.   
  
“N-no Madam. I greatly appreciate the gesture. If you ever need anything. Please don’t hesitate to let me know.”  
  
“I greatly appreciate it, if you could let me know of any visitors or other guests to this floor, of anything suspicious going on in the area or any calls incoming. That would be much appreciated. Please allow me to get the door for you.” Akira then went to get the door for the waiter. Discreetly passing on a few more notes into his pocket.  
  
“Have a good evening.” Akira bowing to the waiter  
  
“You too madam.” Returning the bow and he pushed the tray out of the room and passed into the hallway. Akira closing the door once he was gone.  
  
Akira rested her back on the door for a moment once he was gone, her right hand still on the doorknob. While using her left hand to remove her scarf from her neck, bringing fingers to feel the budge in her throat, the one thing that can cause people to realise like Mr Kirihara and Oboro did today.   
  
‘ _He didn't even notice once, it’s amazing how much a difference a scarf and gloves make. Isn't that right Mr. Kirihara? You only saw what you saw today because I allowed you to. And you gave me exactly what I was looking for, something your dear wife noticed. Yes, she will be a wonderful ally to me and Nathaniel with aiding Princess Hui Ying and our plans._ ’  
  
It had always been bigger than most people’s. Even as a child, it had meant that her voice broke before she had even began learning algebra, along with her neck being somewhat long to begin with, had led to her being labelled Turkey Neck throughout primary and secondary school. Kids really knew how to make one feel despair about themselves. But she didn't want to just have it removed just because of that. It was still a part of herself, a part of how she was born.  
  
That and having a deeper voice than most made it all the more frustrating for her to appreciate herself for so many years of her life, it’s why she learnt to pitch her voice and learn different styles just to not have to listen to it. Even then, she knew deep down what she really was. It still popped up every now and then, though thankfully far less since her treatment began and her hormones became balanced with her medication.  
  
And that's what mattered Akira knew as she moved off from the door and let go of the door knob.  
  
What a day it had been for her.  
  
Once she had gotten back from the meeting in Odawara. She had wiped all of her makeup off after checking into her Presidential suite, taken her hair tier off to allow her top hair to flow again, put her Parasol to the side. Gotten out of her kimono she had commissioned by a designer she knows in Tokyo and after a lovely bath, putting on a light silky blue blouse, some skinny jeans and her favourite white hand gloves to keep her hands warm. Also because the feel of them on her hands made her feel so good. Once she had finished their journey on the Bullet train back to Shinjuku and then hopped on the train from Shinjuku to Tokyo Station.   
  
Dismissing lovely Belyana and dutiful Alastair for the day before then as they travelled separately back in the vehicle they had driven from Tokyo in. They had pretty much done a great job at the meeting today and making her feel safe and showing what the Golden Company stood for. Not that Akira ever needed it per say, but having someone watching your back is always a nice little privilege to have.   
  
Now all that was left was to chat to her partner about the day and some other stuff they needed to chat about. Along with gouging on this feast that was in front of her. But she would let the food cool a bit, Akira didn't like to eat food that was roasting hot, her tongue was a tee sensitive to anything at high temperatures.  
  
Her partner was due to call any minute via satellite connection on some prototype tablets which they had received from the Clements Families tech division.  
  
But before that, Akira needed to apply some cream to her hands and face. Couldn't have her skin going dry now. Grabbing the moisture cream from the side desk next to her bed. She applied the cream softly and carefully to her face. Making sure to rub it in good in her cheeks as the fresh smell of new Moisture cream entered her nose. Ah the smooth feeling of moisture cream on her face, made her feel so soft, her skin breathing so easily.   
  
Then it was the hand’s turn. Startin with the right, Akira removed her white silk glove to moist each hand, taking care to get it between her fingers and spread thin across her palms and backhand. So as not to mess the coloring of her tattoos that go all the way up her arm and shoulder. Had to keep the red dragon that adorns her upper body glamourous. She only had it reinked a month ago by Eleana along with Nathaniel’s.  
  
‘Especially the back area that helped to seal the bond of love between us when we started our relationship.’  
  
*Bring Bring*   
  
Ah the call of work, her Tablet rang as she finished up her moisture session. Akira quickly grabbed the tablet from her work bag, pretty much jumping on her bed in the process. Nice soft warm bed to be on with it’s golden silk sheets and duvet. Goddess it has been ages since she had been able to sleep in luxury. Usually a single bed or basic twin bed was her bedding, that is if she was lucky enough to get a proper nights rest in GC operations.  
  
She needed to lie down and relax after being on her feet for most of the day. Putting her feet up, relaxing her right arm on her stool he brings with her to relax on sofas or on the bed.  
  
“Check Check Ground control to major Akira? Hel-looo? Is this connection working Ganabati? Since i’m not seeing anybody on the other end yet. I certainly hope Akira can see me.” Akira hearing Nathaniel's voice as the connection remained static.  
  
“It’s working Nathan, it just takes a few minutes for all of the satellite feed to come through, it is brand new technology after all. It’s part of the evolution process of creating new tech.”  
  
“I know that, but this tech isn't going to go far unless these kinks are worked out before anyone else gets the drop on u…” Epressedo, Nathaniel's face showed up at last. Obviously looking at Mr Ganabati who was off screen.  
  
“I can see you Nat,”   
  
That got his attention as he turned to face Akira waving at him.  
  
“Hi hi hi Akira, hope the feed is w-working cle-early that you c-an see and h-hear me now. Had assurances from Ganesha that it will work no matter what, from the fact i see the ravishing beauty that would make Grainne turn tail from Diarmuid and embrace you fully. I say I owe him a Newcastle Brownie for once later on at the Strawberry.” Said Nathaniel with the little cheeky grin forming on Nathaniel's lip whenever he starts fawning over Akira or teasing others.  
  
“I heard that Nathan,”   
  
“Y-You were supposed to Ganabati. Now please, would you be so kind as to give me and Akira some privacy for us to chat? I’ll meet you at the Strawberry later. Here’s the fiver I owe you for getting this Clements tablet to work.” Nathan said as he waved a £5 note that Mr Ganabati swiped from his hand as he turned to leave.  
  
“Yeah sure, see you there.” Akira could hear Ganabati’s somewhat large steps echo quieter as he vacated whatever building Nathaniel was currently in. It looked like Nathan was at his so called ‘secret hub’ that he was having built in secret, far from the eyes and ear of the Golden Company, even from others that they have allegiance with and share commodity with in more ways than one.   
  
It had been nearly 9 months since they had brought the land with some of their funds they get from a variety of ventures they both engage in. From having shares in various business ventures like the Clements family or the Northern seas power plants shares Akira had brought under the advice of Mr Ganabati and from one of the higher ups that is fond of Akira, add in their mercenary work bringing in sizeable revenue and favours she gained from some of the Scottish MPs she had helped out in certain matters and in helping local businesses.  
  
Since they needed to have alternatives when the mercenary work is quiet like it was for a year after the war ended and in recent times. Or they are keeping a low profile after a big operation like the ones they did in Eastern Europe 92-93, Akira still remembers that one fight in Romania where she struggled to think at all against that person who was of cosmic size, the way that masked… thing kept playing with her emotions, the way they played with her with the rapier they wielded and prodded through her protection vest while Akira failed to land a proper strike with her legs or with her rifle.   
  
If Nathaniel hadn’t ambushed them from behind with his tranquilliser dart from their arms set they wear on their missions. In the process ripping off their mask, which it along with the effects of the tranquilliser dart subdued them long enough for them to escape by their grap hooks. She would have been a goner for sure. They certainly didn’t want them finding out who they were or why they were doing, what they were doing with those children. Goddess, the things they did to them, what they found there. Was one of the most unpleasant things Akira ever had to deal with. It had made them both her and Nat vomit in disgust and still lingered on even today in their minds.   
  
Or because of people like Miss Bhai bringing heat from the filth with her hacking antics, her rudeness that drove Akira up the wall whenever she wasn’t giving a whole lecture on counterfeit money and her so called genius way of making them despite the fact she never finished stuff to deadlines and always went over budget. That she thrusted her against the wall, choking her until her eyes rolled into the back of her inflated brain. Before she threw her out of the Golden Company building after a remark she made to her about her chosen gender and Nathaniel firing her for it.   
  
Sure, it had led her to be reported to HR and subjected to a tribunal by the board members. All of whom weren’t exactly interested in understanding with how Akira felt about being what she had been called. Even Miss Norwood was pretty ambivalent to it. Mr Dubois had been the only one afterwards to express sympathies for it afterwards to her, which while Akira appreciate the sentiment. Wasn’t the same as Empathy, something only Nat, Elena and Beleyana had given her. They had given her a warning about it and put her on six months probation. But goddess was it worth it to do that to that woman.  
  
‘Very few ever drive me to make me lose myself like that. Kudos to you Miss Bhai for achieving that.’  
  
With Nathaniel's alternative ventures being the charge they have. His fondness for history and artefacts they find and bring either to local people to keep hold of. Or uncover for the British History Department (when it doesn't go to the archaeology department for safekeeping).  
  
Well, Akira certainly never had to lack for anything for a long time. Though she would not just sit idly, she would see her home country fulfilled to the potential it had, her fellows in her community be given the basics society denies them and has denied them throughout history. This world would be changed one way or another so that it recognises people like her, like her dear Nathaniel and embrace the beauty, the virtues and the trueness of Celtic and reject all that the false blood, the ones that besmirch everything their society stands for, did stood for and are relics of those be-heavens that lie in Britannia and lay false claims hood to their isles.   
  
The fact they don’t speak a word of the Celtic tongue just proves their fallacy all the same. Along with how lazy they are for using the names of their culture, of their cities for themselves. But then there was never any originality that came from the people who went over and trampled over the Natives there. All of it came from elsewhere that they appropriated or ripped off.   
  
Which she would do with her partner here and now.  
  
“Good, now we can talk without anyone over hearing, though just to be safe. I have my vinyl player here to entertain us and any guests. Marcus, i’m going to talk to Akira in our native language,” Nathaniel said as he finished his last sentence of english.   
  
“So-so how are are you doing this fine evening Akira? I’m taking it you swept your palace for bugs and all that, can’t be having any filth or Intel people listening in?” Nathan said slowly as he took his time in making sure Akira understood his words.  
  
Speaking in other languages has always been one of Nathaniel’s main weaknesses, since his dialect, his inflect and tone had always been different from other peoples that he constantly practised his talking and speech stuff when they were young for hours, that and could mumble or stutter when his anxiety plays up. He would often practise in the mirror saying he don’t blink and he keeps on going. Eventually she had to told him to bloody blink since it was getting ridiculous him repeating it for so long and not blinking. Which he shrugged and grinned about, saying that it works because it got her to listen to him.  
  
Plus, it help Nathaniel to keep his face looking at people, despite how often it hurt him to  
  
Add in to how the Gaelic language often has very different pronunciations, emphasis on certain letters and affects to English and it makes it harder for non Scottish people to learn it since Celtic languages were more of its own tune than the hybrid of languages like English, Dutch and German that shared a similarity in how it’s spoken.   
  
It’s why he didn't like to speak much in any language but English unless he had to. It’s one of the reasons Akira often met people in Nathan's place since Akira, Elena or other translators they used in the GC had no issue with speaking in other languages.   
  
“Hello Nathan, yes i can see and hear you clearly enough on this mammoth of a tablet that’s straining my hands just holding it to see your face, you are doing fine, you can speak a bit more quickly since Gaelic was drilled into me by my father when i was young. The tablet here along with my darling Crwth almost tipped my luggage over the limit at Heathrow. Along with all the gifts you wanted me to bring over as well. You know how fussy airlines are on luggage. Even more so when you are carry extra hand luggage as I often do. Also, yes i had Marco swept the room out before I checked in. It was easy enough for him to slip into the hotel as a worker and place any anti bug tech in here.”  
  
“Thanks Akira, though i want to make sure nothing is misunderstood so i will take my time talking in the old tongue just to be sure. Airports and Airlines for you eh, back when we were kids. They would never even question someone lighting a fag up, drinking on the plane or what you had in your luggage. Now they give you a dirty look for daring to pack anything more than a shoe. True misers they are these days Airport workers. Excellent, Marco has always been attentive to making sure we are bug free wherever we go. He’s got a bright future with us along with the other young ones I sent with you.” Nathaniel said as he moved his face to look away a bit.   
  
Removing his Oakley's for a few seconds to rubbed his eyes before putting them back on to look at Akira.  
  
“Your not up there in Newcastle by yourself are you Nathaniel, apart from Mr Ganabati for company I mean? You have had the habit in the past of not having someone when I am away looking out for you. Also, don’t force yourself to look at me face if it’s hurting your eyes. I know you are giving me your full attention.” Akira inquired, raising a brow as she waited to hear Nat’s answer.  
  
Which caused Nathan to sigh in exasperation as he massaged his temples.   
  
“Of course not, I have Marcus watching from above where he likes to be. Out of mind and out of sight until he wants someone to know his presence. Yet close enough to make me feel secure here and overlook our meeting without anyone getting cute,” Nathaniel said as he pointed a finger up to the ceiling.  
  
“Plus, I have Maribelle in the security room monitoring for any signs of trouble and prepared to jump in whenever she deems it. True bodyguards both of them and ones I fully trust to have our back since they came into the fold. Since I know you worry if i don’t have anyone, plus Marcus has a real talent for knowing how to film stuff with whichever camera he has and to make sure they are edited well, which is one of the reasons I recruited him in the first place. Maribelle for being reliant and being able to stay calm under severe pressure and because she knows her way around art stuff,”  
  
“I learnt from the mistakes of not having one after being visited in one of my ‘sessions’ from one of the little operatives sent by our rivals. That one was something I haven’t forgotten that’s for sure.”   
  
Yes, that time when Nathaniel was nearly killed because he chose to continue his research for too long despite knowing how dangerous it was for him to do it for such a period of time. There have been times where Akira literally had to barge in and get Nathaniel to either eat, drink or in in recent years. Come to bed by dragging his hand and spooning him so he didn’t get thoughts of sneaking off during the night. It had gotten to the point that she insisted in doing the research with him.  
  
Besides, she wanted to see and further her knowledge of history as well.  
  
“Just to check also, your not in the Hotel by yourself are you Akira? Please tell me you have either say Belyana or Alistair on one of the floors or when you travelled back from Odawara? I worry about you being by yourself as well despite the fact you can easily take care of anyone that bothers you. Especially with how Japanese people can find tall women intimidating and of course if anyone was to find out well-yeah.” Nathaniel asked softly as his forehead went wrinkly with concern. Spinning his cane all the while.   
  
Even with his Oakley's blocking his eyes from view. Akira could see his eyes bags were raised. He only did that when he was concerned for her or anyone else in distress.  
  
Akira went a bit sheepish at Nathan’s question, since she had merely asked him the same one just before and now had to think of an answer that wasn’t contradicting herself from what she had said.  
  
“I rode alone all the way, I just needed some time to myself after being around others for the last week non stop. A person can only handle being around others so much,”   
  
Goodness, Akira had been reminded of that fact she rode the train from Shinjuku to Tokyo station. She had reminded herself of how busy that station gets with the constant of people banging into her and how crowded the trains get at peak times with everyone trying to squeeze in.  
  
“Belyana and Alistair are staying on the fourth and second floor respectively floor. We have a set of walkie talkie between us if I need anything from her and she has a her full set of knives with her at all times. Alistair is keeping tabs on who come into the hotel and of anything suspicious. I’m in good hands here Nat. But thank you all the same for your concern.”   
  
“That's good, It really puts me at east to know that. Belyana especially being nearby for anything you need. She’s been solid since we met her in the Russian resistance and has kept up our ties with the people in them since then. Which will come handy for what is to come.”  
  
Belyana had even offered to change out of her uniform so she could still accompany Akira on the train since she loves trains herself, but she accepted Akira's decision reluctantly all the same to travel alone.   
  
Besides, it was nice to look at the Japanese countryside as it past by. To see people working on the rice fields, to see the suburbs that surrounds Tokyo. To sit on a train that was nice and clean, ran on time. One of her dreams was to ride the Chinese Royal train, it was stated to be the most powerful train around today and had been a showcase for the Rail network formed between China and Britannia that runs from Pendragon, across the Canadian countryside, up to across Russia under the North Pacific Ocean. Across Siberia and then down across north east China before stopping at Beijing.  
  
They weren’t like the trains back home. People had no respect for public transport with the way they vandalise them in Britain. It was different when Akira was young, she still had fond memories of the trains she used to ride around in during the summer across Scotland, The Great West Highland route with the steam train was her personal favourite (Akira thought that would make for a good location for any film to shoot), it’s… one of the only things she could remember enjoy doing with her parents and when they seemed to get on with each other.   
  
♪  _You, You, yes you laddy, stand still laddy_  ♪  
  
She had also noticed while riding the trainline. How some of the men on the train seem… intimidated by her. How she lorded over them with her height. Akira often forgot how small her fellow Japanese could be compared to her above average height of 6’2, But then by Japanese standards, she was a giant.  
  
The way they would glance quickly and then turn around, some possibly saw the tattoos on her neck despite her makeup and putting a scarf on after the meeting to cover her neck area. She never took chances when out in public considering how a number of people feel about people like her, It made it almost impossible to ever go to the loo, even at the GC bases, she didn't risk it. She had even gone as far to ask Nathaniel to put a en-suite in his offices so that she could go and know she wouldn't be bothered or risk any incidents. Simple things people took for granted and were often so unemphatic to her kind about it.   
  
Past experiences had been harsh enough to Akira to never let her drop her guard down. Unless with say Nathan or one of her fellow siblings (well the ones she liked among their group). Especially after that time in Glasgow when a gallery of brutes and spiteful men surrounded herself and Nathan. Despite how many they fought off, Akira remembers vividly practically kicking their ugly scottish teeth down their throats and hearing he snappings of either arms breaking or faces being smashed into the nearby walls, eventually, the additional reinforcements and sneak attack were too much as they beat on their legs, smashed their feet into their fingers, goddess the pain Akira remembers of her fingers snapping and her fingernails cracking. They made them suffer… such abasement.  
  
Akira never forgot that experience, the repayment of it was it in kind.  
  
‘While I don’t usually partake in the suffering of others. They were the exception to that. No-body-does what they did to me or my Nathaniel and gets away with it.’ If we don’t protect ourselves, then no one will as we found when we told the Polis about it in hospital. To them we were nothing more than buftie’s to be ignored, well they certainly got a vivid letter. And a bobby being made a example of as warning to them.’  
  
Akira grasped her cross in her free hand at remembering all of that. Shutting her eyes tightly as she suppressed thinking about it.  
  
She had thought about moving to the women’s only carriage at one-point. But, Akira didn’t want to risk any possible awkwardness or risk getting stared at for the whole journey. Women could be funny about a person like her, some were supportive or understood why she was the way she was, others would prefer if she didn't exist. Hatred could and did often come from a variety of sources. It’s something she and Nathaniel have had to deal with throughout the years they have been together as their relationship progressed from where it started back during when Freddie was at his most fabulosos.   
  
“How’s everything going with the building in Newcastle Nat?”  
  
“Very good thanks, it’s only going to be a few more weeks until it’s ready to be open to the public. The first stage of the project that will lead to greater things for this city, the north and the rest of the isles we live on will finally be compete. Now we just have to make sure the suits in Westminster do their part and pass the laws that will give voice to sue before the next general election in two years time.”  
  
From what Akira could make out of the background, of the ladders all stored up against those brick walls, cover sheets hanging over stored furniture, cans of paint covering the corner of the room Nathaniel was in. The uncovered head bulb lighting the room rather dimly. The glass frames still plastered over where the windows were, hinting that they had only recently been put in.To a big map of the isles of Britain and Ireland covering one of the walls. big circle marking a point in the west Irish sea with the words Crown Jewels besides it.   
  
The other map of the Asian continent, with darts being pinned to a few locations with circles around them. One for China, One for India and one for the Golden Triangle that laid between Thailand, Burma and Laos. With a smaller dart pinning all too familiar city in Thailand.  
  
This was obviously a different room than the other one where all of the film equipment, design specs and projections were. Which Akira noticed was lurking in the background as she could slightly see a film camera sticking out slightly in the other room in her view.  
  
A golf bag with a full set of clubs, irons, wedges and the putter to go with it, a green mat and tees set up besides it. Nathaniel and Akira often liked to practise their golfing in interesting places as that Britannian who tried to build a golf course near Aberdeen found out the hard way, as did Viscount Soresi when they were in India. The rather dingy looking chair Nathaniel was sitting on backwards like he was a teenager. Akira was surprised it hadn’t broke under Nathan’s broad size and height, and equally looking rusty large table that Akira could only imagine was from the skip outside the job centre. The fact it had pegs of stone bricks holding it on one side only confirmed Akira’s suspicions. With his beloved St James Park lurking in the background as the Strawberry pub and other local businesses populating it. Along with the Tyne Bridge squeezing even further away as the rather dark grey clouds look like they were bringing in a winterious downpour that splattered on the glass window.  
  
‘He truly knows how to take the philosophy of frugality to a unique position. I’ve give him that. Nat has never aspired to fit into what he sees is a class structure that bullies people into trying to emulate the habits of those at the top.’  
  
Table was littered with a sandwich, (that was always marmite flavour) a banana, a bottle of water. Akira hoped that it was fresh and not from a unreliable tap source, last time her partner had drunk local water in Bulgaria, he nearly died from Choridia and was hospitalised for 2 weeks. Akira remembered the lecturing she had given Nathaniel about it as he laid in the medical ward of the Golden Company base they were at. He really should have known better considering what they had been through earlier in their lives and their time in some rather unscrupulous places.  
  
A wall of glass where Lucius was resting in currently curled around the log he was on.  
  
The rest of his ‘lunch’ included packet of Salt and Vinegar Hula Hoops. Nathaniel's work laptop, that could easily be used as melee weapon from the size of it eclipsing most of the table. His work phone looming besides, it could still take a person's cheek when holding it. As Nathaniel had already noted, a Vinyl player to finish the tech set he had, lightly playing out a familiar song that brought out the best of of Roger and provided a lovely bass to go with their conversation. Despite the earlier part of it bringing up bitter memories for Akira. Ones she would not dwell...on. No no Akira couldn't think of them right now.  
  
♪  _We don’t need no education._  ♪   
  
And finally, some Wine Gums in a medium size packet and a bag of what Akria assumed was pick and mix from Woolworth's.  
  
A couple of magazine on disabilities littering the left side. One of them in Japanese and bearing Sumeragi Natsumi’s face on, with a mix of newspapers in different languages with one in Japanese also. Beside them also were some science journals and research notes that Akira couldn't make out what they were about. Though she knew Nathaniel liked to read through scientific fields when it came to Robotics, Cybernetics, agriculture and possible Artificial Intelligence stuff that when he wasn’t reading up on history, law and politics. His motto was always he knew he knew nothing (a quote from the Greek philosopher Socrates). Which Nathaniel applied that to everything in their work, even their relationship as he showed when she first started her process.  
  
‘I seek to constantly expand the lens in which filter us and the biases we develop from the environment and structures we grow up in.’  
  
♪  _We don't need no thought control._  ♪  
  
Akira preferred the good read of ancient Celtic texts they uncovered over the years. The daily tips on what’s in fashion (Akira had to keep up her fine look). Along with good old Dumas and his darling tales. Especially the stuff between Eugenie and Louise really helped in her youth comes to terms with who she was and was something she really loved discussing and analysing with Sister Michelle and Adrianna about, along with other books the trio enjoy.   
  
All with a box of strawberries covered in delicious whip cream. Along a glass of sherry to go with it.  
  
Compare all of that to her current aboud. A room that was larger than the small apartment in Aberdeen where Akira grew up in. The King size bed that Akira was currently lying on was alone bigger than the kitchen was all together. Add in the balcony that she had that overlooked the centre of Tokyo. The massive dining room table made out of polished marble. The luxurious velvet sofas that crown the room in its centre and nicely allowed Akira to dump two of her three suitcases on. The wall crafted in vinyl metallic ink spreading it’s veins across the room.   
  
Akira would speak nothing about this, she knew Mr Ganabati had likely given Nathan another lecture on the importance of appearance outside of dressing nicely, so she wouldn't waste her words. Akira could agree on the importance of one representing the title or power they have, to a point. But only to a point.  
  
‘There are other ways of showing power than appearing to be what others think. Some never reveal themselves, some merely allow their shadow to speak for themselves. Others sing and create rumours. As long as the people they project their power to believe it resides with them. Then they achieve their goal and methods.’  
  
As when he’s with her, she makes sure he indulges in the privileges their lives afford them and he does enjoy himself. They had been through too much, Akira had been through too much in her short life to not enjoy what they have. Because it may not be there tomorrow for them to not take a simple pleasure in thing, something Akira had learned the hard way when she was younger, even though what she had when she was young was minuscule in nature. Especially with the duties they carry, and what they carry within them only the fewest ever do and where many end up as.  
  
Besides, Akira was pretty sure Nathaniel brought cheap stuff and acted the way he did around him and Mahjarah Singh deliberately to wind them up. Since whenever they together like they were recently with Sister Michelle and her fellow compatriot Ardianna. Her Nathaniel was a true gentlemen of opening doors for her, pulling her chair you name it. Only around Maharini Balapradia would he drop this behaviour around the two. Though she wondered if that was because he respected Bala, he often went on about how she was the best of his mentors, that she and Mr Ganabati made dealing with the lech Singh was bearable, or because she brook nothing but the utmost of respect from anyone. Akira had to give her credit, Bala knew how to make everyone in a room take notice of her. Though she could not overlook how she made Nathaniel kiss her rings everyone they met.   
  
It felt so debasing for someone to apply that to another person Akira vividly believed.  
  
♪  _No dark sarcasm in the classroom._  ♪  
  
Though Akira was certain Nathaniel did it because it was some sort of in-joke between them they only got. Or maybe it was something else Akira couldn't grasp. Nat had never been shy in admitting his attraction to women older than himself.   
  
She had sensed his interest to Miss Norwood back in Russia. Not surprising considering her personality and easy going nature in private but fully professional and committed in her work.   
  
Not that Akira was jealous of it all, she would certainly welcome another person to her and Nathaniel’s relationship if they would fit in with them both and that they could make that person happy. Life was too short not to give stuff like that a try.   
  
Though she certainly wouldn't mind if it remained just her and Nat all the same.  
  
‘It takes being able to fully trust and love someone to commit to a relationship like that. The indications I get from him was that it would have to be someone that really interested him and accepted me for who I am for him to consent.’  
  
But it was what it was and something Akira found degrading to watch every time they meet with, especially as Akira wasn’t particularly fond of that or really anything about Nathaniel’s Indian allies (well mostly the Mahjarah and some of his inner circle).  
  
Something she has noted to him on a few occasions. The way they looked at her during meetings, the way Mr Ganabati kept yapping on about how his people, his race whenever he got a chance despite how much shit he gave Nathaniel for doing the same. Which is true, he could rant on about a topic that riled him up, about this and that, it had been a common experience during their younger days and had led Akira to become immensely frustrated with him, since sometimes it had felt like lectures than any discussion and Nathaniel would often not let Akira get a word in. Even if he didn't mean them to be and always apologized for it afterwards whens he called him on it. Thankfully, he had gotten better about it over the years.  
  
Yes their people have suffered under Britannians and even before that by the English and, yes her people the Scots as well. They deserve to have their country liberated and their nationality restored to its proper place. But it’s not a game of misery or playing a card to get what you want all the time. It’s the sort of benign neglect that those in power rely on to keep themselves in control and those they harm from unifying to overhaul the broken system that mauls human society.   
  
‘Especially after some of the things Singh said about me in private. That’s something you cannot undo lightly nor forget and forgive. Something Mr Ganabati acts obtuse about.’  
  
“So, how is the goddess of beauty that puts even Branwen to shame doing this fine day?” Nathaniel said that dragged Akira out of those unpleasant thoughts.  
  
This netted him a small smile from Akira.  
  
“Good Nathaniel, very good thank you. Though I caution you on referring me to a goddess. You know Kayci doesn’t take lightly to such claims?” Akira responded.   
  
“Well, our glorious Priestess isn't here to bellow the texts of our beloved religion. Besides she’s one to talk. Considering how much she preaches the word, the tales and songs of whom we all… serve.” Nathaniel struggled to get the last word out.   
  
Turning his head away as Akira could see him struggling not to bite his lip as his breathing grew heavier. Akira knew she had to say something before Nathaniel allowed himself to dwell on such thoughts.  
  
♪  _Hey Teacher, leave those kids alone._  ♪  
  
“...Nathan.”   
  
That brought him to turn his head back to face Akira on the tablets.  
  
“...i’m sorry... for worrying you Akira. It’s just-just, no forget it. There’s no point speaking on matters that are set in stone. Not like we can do anything about it right? I mean we’re here trying to fulfil our duties and she’s… in her own little world sitting up looking at the stars and refusing to even engage to any of us. ” Nathaniel said as his lips curled up and he thumped his fist on the table.  
  
Akira repressed the urge to sigh at Nathan's words. This wasn’t the first time she had heard this line of thought from Nathan. Even the first time he met the one that held them all together, Nathaniel had taken the drink offered, said a word of toast, and then threw the drink in her face for reasons she knew still ran deep with him, her as well despite how much she had done for Akira, for accepting her as she was and for taking her in as her own when no one else did.   
  
♪  _Hey, Teacher, leave those kids alone!_  ♪  
  
She didn't want to be in the middle of a tug of war nor have to bear with this sort of tension while they were in Asia.  
  
Nor was it the first time him being awkward about speaking his feelings, even to her after all these years. It frustrated her that Nathaniel still even now from time to time kept to himself like this. She had felt like she had been stuck at the prologue of the book that is Nat for years until she managed to advance that story when he finally started to let her in.  
  
It hadn’t started well when Akira, at her limit with all of it back then. Decided to… take things into her own hands. It had ended with a black eye, broken jaw for her and seeing just how much of a storm could be raised in one person.  
  
Though the more she had learned, the glimpses of what she saw. What Nathaniel showed her. The more she began to empathise why Nat preferred to be a closed book. It wasn’t like she was a open book either and he had never given her hassle about it. Akira knew that the main reason they opened up to each over time was because they proved to the other they could be trusted, they wouldn’t judge. But they would work together to keep evolving themselves.  
  
Akira also knew that autistic people had their own ways of communicating their feelings. She remembered how in the past, Nathan would write down what he was feeling instead since he kept mumbling or stuttering or getting irritated with himself.   
  
To press now would only irritate her partner and she knew who irritable Nathaniel can be when he feels overwhelmed. She had seen him when the meltdowns happen and it was not pleasant one bit to see.   
  
♪  _All in all it's just another brick in the wall._  ♪  
  
She settled for putting her free hand through her hair as she thought on what to say.   
  
“....Very well, but promise me Nat, promise me that we are going to talk about this down the line when you are ready. It’s not good to hold something like this in and i don't want this line of thought to continue nor be put between us and complicate things here or our future plans, bedies. It’s dangerous to think of potential scenarios that you know she has considered, she hasn't lasted as long as she has by not being able to read the people she has. Remember, we are in this together no matter what and if one of us falls, the other will also.” Akira said softly as she leaned forward on her bed to assure Nathan.  
  
♪  _Wrong, do it again!_  ♪   
  
‘ _Shut up Mr Gilbert. You aren’t here anymore to cane me anymore for speaking my mind._ ’’  
  
“That we are Akira, that we are. Again, i’m sorry for worrying you. Just got a lot on my mind at the moment with everything going on, the amount of energy it takes me to deal with so many people, the amount of concentration I have to do just to look natural at simple stuff and dealing with everything we are dealing with at the moment. I promise, we will talk about this matter when we are ready. Since we both want to make sure the future we are working towards for the both of us becomes reality. Regardless of what happens with us and her.” Nathaniel said as a small smile crept across those scarred lips that defined his mouth as he got off his seat to look at the wall in the room.  
  
Lucius came slithering over as Nathan held out his arm to him.  
  
♪  _All in all you're just eh, another brick in the wall_. ♪  
  
A loud sigh echoed afterwards from Nathaniel as he appeared to whisper something that Akira couldn’t hear. But before Akira could ask him what he said, Nathan sat back down. This time seating on it properly on his chair turned round to accommodate as it was made to. with his left leg over his right as he put his free arm on the table.  
  
Though the slightest of creak sounds escaped the chair.  
  
“Well just to note, I certainly appreciate the fact you think of me as a goddess. It’s nice to have someone that worships me for who I am.” Akira emphasized that point by moving her body so that Nat could see her posing on her arm rest. Moving the front of her hair move so that it was a peek a boo sort of look. Her’s and Nathaniel's favourite.  
  
“My pleasure dear.” Nathan responded by opening and crossing his legs as he leaned his left shoulder and arm back on his chair. Allowing Akira to get a glimpse of his top unbuttoned shirt showing his broad chest area.  
  
If it were anyone else comparing herself to the Goddess of Beauty, it would be borderline blasphemy in Akira’s eyes to compare her to a god and a big sign they were trying her on, Priestess Kayci would bagger them into a room and lecture her all day on why comparing oneself to a god is a sin and mockery of the gods. Which she had done once or twice when Akira and her partner were just mere pupil of hers within the temple they serve.  
  
♪  _We don't need no education._  ♪  
  
‘Ah the children, nobody ever thinks of the children.’  
  
But coming from Nathaniel. Well, it’s to be expected (and much appreciated) to hear that she is on the level of the gods from her partner. Especially it took an insurmountable of time and effort to foreshow the beauty that Akira knew she was. Something the pile of bottles that she had to take the prescribed amount at specific times, at specific quantities each day, the cream that she rubbed on her arms everyday. To hide the so called marks of shame her asian blooded judged her for because of outdated and shallow views. The tedious of finding a injection point for those dull injections. Something most just could not, no would not comprehend.  
  
  
♪  _If you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding._  ♪  
  
Sometimes, Akira wondered… what would it be like to have eternal life? To never wither as the years pass? To remain forever young, forever beautiful. It was within Akira’s and other people she knew all too well reach.   
  
But there was one price to it all, everyone around her would eventually decline, their flower becoming more fragile as the life of them grew dimmer and dimmer. Even the gods Akira   
looked up to for guidance when she needed it, drew her strength from could, or wouldn’t allow humanity to share in the pleasure only the fewest have access to. Had to deal with the fact they would go through an unending cycle. It’s probably why some were so desperate to be rid of what they saw as a curse they would force upon the one they chose to bear it.  
  
‘ _Could I truly and honestly say that I am prepared to go through the very same experience that she has gone through for millenniums… I really don’t know._ ’  
  
♪  _How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?_  ♪  
  
“Nathaniel, could you stop playing that song now? It’s starting to get on my nerves.” Akira said as she massaged her temples from the echos.   
  
“Oh right yes, forgotten it was still on.”   
  
*Scratch*   
  
Urgh, Akira finding her ears bleeding everytime a record player made that sound.  
  
“I’ll put this on instead, can’t be having the filth listen in to us. Especially with the way they infiltrate groups and allow their staff to manipulate people into relationships. It’s why we have to be careful about any groups we approach or approach us. The ones that followed the witch and killed people during the 80’s are still around at Scotland Yard.” Nathaniel said as he put on a track of pretty much the sort you would have to bear in a shop lift.  
  
She nodded at that, nothing more needed to be said on that matter.  
  
“Anyways, hope everything went well in Odawara with the meeting with Oboro and Saburo? I certainly hope it’s milder where you are. It’s bloody freezing up ere in Newcastle. Gods why did they have to make this city so damn cold and windy,” Nathaniel said.  
  
Then for a second, she could see Nathan putting down the tab and rubbing his gloves together as moist came out of his breath before he brought his rounded face back into Akira’s view.  
  
Akira chucked a bit at Nathaniel’s poor predicament of being cold in his favourite city of England. That and thinking Newcastle was cold like at all. Nathan raised his eyebrows beneath his Oakleys as Akira grinned widely.   
  
“Oh Nathaniel, you still think Newcastle is cold? After all our time in Russia and Eastern Europe during the war and last few years. When there were days we didn't even go outside because we would get frostbite or because we couldn't see beyond the front door of our base because the winter fog was so deep that you felt your energy being sucked out by it.”  
  
“Hard to forget how cold Russia was. There were days I wondered if we were ever going to reach Moscow and end that war we had been pretty much fighting for 5 years by then. Remember how long we were bogged down in St Petersburg and basically suffering cabin fever because of it with the others?”   
  
“Nearly three months. It certainly brought up tensions between us and who we were with at the time, but we did get to see some of the lovely sights of the city around the way and got to really have a proper snow fight between us all,”  
  
“Remember our time in the Scottish highlands when it was just the two of us and we were living off the land, you know when we took our... pilgrimage…” Akira trailing off at the end, twirling a lock of her hair as she remembered, remembered the days of those trials, the trials the gods had given the pair.  
  
Nathaniel's face went all flustered at Akira’s remarks as he mumbled sounds, unsure on what to say as he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. Then brought the very hand in front of his face. Glazing steady as the dew escaped from his breath. Eyebrows furrowing that Akira knew Nathan was in thought.  
  
“Apologises Akira, but i’m going to move for a sec, hang on will you?”  
  
Standing up from his ill equipped chair. Akira could only see the up-close side of Nathan’s black suit as he heard what sounded like Nathaniel tinkering with the window handle. until he eventually stopped and pointed the Clements tablet to show the city that is Newcastle in full view form the opened window.  
  
Like many cities across both the borders. Better days it had seen, where once there had been a lively port where ships would come on from all across the world. Bringing in a variety of trade with them, the mines that were once open flourished with sakuradite and coal mining, a secure job for the working class people that made up much of the population. Solidarity in believing in the good of the community. Now, the factories that once pop the fumes of smoke lay silent and marked with sullen dirt. Old housing estates built to house as many workers near to the mines as possible remained as a mark of the pasts grip with for sale or rent signs clogging the very small gardens or windows that lay at the front. The cranes that lined up the coast that faced the South Shields barely moving, with only the rare sound of small fishing boats blaring their horns. The Parks remain littered, even the trees looked deader than they usually do during the months of winter. No doubt council cutbacks have affected the grounds-keeping it of it all.  
  
The war they had fought in had reached even to their parts of Britain, with the work of the Russian sub missiles still leaving their scars across the eastern coast of England, they had even found a few that remain undetonated, one poor middle aged man had the bad luck of setting one off by accident when.   
  
Edinburgh, Aberdeen and Glasgow had seen their share of these attacks as well that still left it recovering to this day with the overcrowding of the tower blocks in the latter case after the poll tax came into effect that robbed people furthur of rebuilding their lives.  
  
‘And to think they say we won that war.’  
  
But yet, the sounds of people at the markets could be heard. Traffic speeding along, young beavers helping elderly folks to get around. People in bright vests giving drinks to those that were homeless. Lights shining in all the buildings in view, there was still life here and in various other cities. Those living their lives no matter what came their way. Akira had recently been back to Glasgow and saw with her own eyes people going on as if the war had never happened. People in bars having a good laugh, nightclubs still ongoing eveyr weekend. The footy still lively as ever  
  
Akira could hear the whispering of the sound of thunder as the winds start to fluffle Nathaniel’s hair and the bottom of his suit jacket as he held his free hand out to the clouds. As if he was looking to grasp something in it.  
  
“Y-Yeah, that was something I hope we never go through again. Of the melting sleet and ever burden of mushy snow. Crowning in icy wet coldness that dragged into what little clothes we had that weren’t already ruined or torn, wet through or muddied to the point we had to sleep in utter wetness most nights in those leaky tents we had as we ascended further in our…pilgrimage. It was as if Danu herself was controlling all the water around us and blasting us and blessing us equally as we undertook each trail and trying to find meaning. But we came through it all, no matter what they threw at us, together we unsheathed ourselves to each other fully, even the parts that we only ever kept to ourselves. Finally shredding the skins in which society had plastered over us for our entire lives up to that point. We-became-reborn.” Nathaniel shiverly said.  
  
“All of that led us to our path, to where… she finally answered our prayers, right when we had proven we were worthy of what Diarmuid left the world. And so began our song to the world.” Akira added on.   
  
“Indeed Akira, now we are ready to write the ballad that we have waited patiently to write. They shall hear the strings of the harps and the sweet .”  
  
“What is dead may never die.” Akira. Clinging to her cross around her neck as she closed her deep blue eyes.  
  
“What is dead may never die.” Nathan responded.  
  
“But rises again, stronger than ever.” Both said in perfect sync at the same time.  
  
A fleeing moment of silence gripped the tablets. Thoughts need not be said as the flow of time carried the serenity that was abound.  
  
Akira opened her eyes to see Nathaniel again. Taking a sip from that water bottle. Releasing a small sigh of pleasure from being re-hydrated. Taking a quick bite of his sandwich to sate his hunger.   
  
“But anyways, if you are cold. Make sure put on a few layers of clothing both upper and lower body. It’s the perfect chance for you to well… you know.” Akira podded off at the end, shifting her eyes and nodding her head in the process.  
  
“I’m already wearing layers underneath my suit see?” Nathaniel showed by bringing up his cowboy boot to the table, taking it off his right foot and showing his black sock covered foot. Then moving this trouser up to show his knee high pink rose patterned socks woven underneath his black socks that cover to his ankle.   
  
Akira grinned widely at the display.  
  
“Oh suits you sir. Are you also wearing what I got you for Christmas?”  
  
“I am indeed, they are so comforty to wear overall, thanks for getting them for me.” Nathaniel sheepishly smiled as he played about with his stud in his ear.  
  
“I’m glad, it really means a lot to me that you embrace this with such passion and affection. Though I do enjoy you as you are all the same as well.” Akira said as she brushed a lock of hair behind her right ear and slyly smiled.  
  
“Same here, it means a lot to me a lot that i can show this part of myself to someone and not be judged for it, not be scolded. Whilst earlier in my life, I-I wouldn’t have been able to. T-There was no one i knew that would have accepted that part of myself. That you accept me for it Akira is-is part of why-why you mean so much to me.” Nathaniel said as he stuttered throughout as a tint of rose flamed up his cheeks and his smile became sheepish.   
  
Then he cleared his throat and his demeanour returned to being serious. Akira followed suit.  
  
“To turn this back round to your question on beforehand on the meeting. It did go well yes, i somehow managed to get through the pitch and points you laid out in your notes to me despite them being pretty much the size of a report that took me hours to go through on the flight over from India. Despite having to cut down on it to fit the time-frame i had with them. Honestly Nathaniel, you have a habit of over explaining or detailing something too much for most to handle in one go. I know and understand its part of who you are, that it helps manage your condition, your anxiety and showing how detailed you are in your work. Making sure there’s no misunderstandings. But you know the old saying, less is more at times.” Akira softly said to Nathaniel as they shifted about in their tight jeans to get more comfortable, wiggling their toes currently wrapped in the oh so comfortable yellow mid calf wools.   
  
Taking a sip of their glass of red wine from the bedside that she had found in the fridge . A bit dry Akira thought for a 5 star hotel that boasted to be one of the best in the world, but still tasteful enough for her to drink and enjoy over the fine evening along with the food she had to engorge upon. Though she could feel herself needing a cuppa soon enough.  
  
Nathan merely shrugged his shoulders in return.  
  
“Hey, I never said you had to use all of which I gave you, I trust you to work things out for yourself. Besides, you love the sound of your voice anyways so the more the merrier for you to sing to people.” Nathaniel’s cheeks practically spread when he said that.  
  
Akira frowned deeply at that last remark. The cheek of him to say that about her.  
  
“... I do not love the sound of my own voice Nathaniel Ludovic Andre. Excuse me for a few minutes would you. I’m going to enjoy some of this feast you have denied me thus far.” She denied as she looked away in a huff.   
  
“Oh Akira, you know I meant that as a compliment. Might as well take a break as i need a piss all the same and i’m going to have my lunch. Might not be as grandiose as your tea. But it’s still a meal. You can’t beat Woolworth's Pick and Mix, may it last forever.” Nathaniel called out as he went silent soon after that.


	6. Jolly Sailor Aki-Kun

**A/N: Behold, part two of Akira's POV chapter.  
  
Peace Sell's But Who's buying is only a few days away now (from 10/03/19 that is). It is well worth the wait  
  
Thanks everyone   
  
Blackmambauk  
**   
  
[ ](https://www.deviantart.com/angekrystaleen/art/Com-Nathan-and-Akira-780719085)   
  
  


* * *

  
[](https://www.deviantart.com/blackmambauk/art/Roanapur-Connection-729724147)  
  
Putting down the tablet for just a minute or two as she got off her bed. Those tablets were prone to heat up quickly Akira had found if she held them for too long. She would have to prop it up with something so they could talk without having to hold it in their hands.  
  
Bringing a plate to take a swipe of the Chicken Nanban on the dining table, a dip of soy sauce, some rice and some soba noodles to finish. Along with making herself a nice cuppa of Tetleys.  
  
Taking her sweet time in dipping her chicken nanban into her soy sauce. Laying it in there until it was fully wrapped in gorgeous brown layers. Taking a slow and lovely bit out of it.  
  
She could hear crunchy sounds coming from Nathaniel’s end. Most likely the hula hoops he was eating. She remembered the time he talked in his sleep about them. Going on about how Hula Hoops were round and they be around forever like that advert for them had done.  
  
“Whoopies, i left this window open form before. Sometimes i’m so forgetful about stuff.” Akira could hear Nathaniel speaking as the sound of a window closing echoed.  
  
“Nevertheless, I certainly love hearing your voice, even more so when you blow into my ear and whisper every syaballe. I mean that Akira, your voice is wonderful to hear. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.” Nathan countered smoothly from the tablet that still sat on Akira’s bed.  
  
Akira opened her left eye slightly with her eyebrow raised to look back a the tablet, a little bit of rose forming on her cheeks. Then looked away again. He wasn’t getting off that easily if her suppressed little smirk and the likelihood of him resting his chin on his hand that he often did when he was like this was any indication.  
  
She let him stew for a few more minutes while she indulged in the noodles and rice. Slurping the noodles every time as she sucked them into her mouth.  
  
Oh but she was going to save her sweet sweet dessert for last so he could see her eat something he can’t.  
  
Akira eventually went to pick up the tablet from her bed, but didn't look at the screen until she was back at her Marble table and found something to hold up so she could be free of straining her hand. Nathaniel had obviously found something on his end to hold it up judging by the fact he had his boots on the table. Grinning all the while at Akira as if he hadn’t been cheeky before.  
  
“Well, I was going to surprise you with a little something I got when I went to pick up alongside my Kimono yesterday from the designers. But if you are going to be like this…” Akira then glanced at her Kimono hanging on the rod that she hung it on and the surprise next to it.   
  
All patterned and colored to Akira’s specification. She had brought over everything else needed with her from India already.  
  
Nathaniel merely raised an eyebrow at that remark.  
  
“Now that’s just mean of you Akira, I bring forth praise of that ever so smoothing Scottish twined with sexy Japanese voice. Just for you to cast me down so cruelly. And to think, I had all the videotapes set up for you to see if the Right Said Frank wannabe brothers beat up Barry at the pub this friday night. I guess i’ll just have to tape over it with Jim and him presenting a speedboat again, I certainly hope Ganabati’s put his he won on the show to good use, It will do nicely going up some rivers,”  
  
“Yes, I remember him on darting on that show, still got the tape of him. I certainly hope he put that hoover and fridge he also won to good use. His workshop tends to be a cesspool at the worst of times and he leaves out out of date milk to foul it up further.” Akira said as she reminisces about Mr Ganabati’s appearance on that game show after Nathaniel convinced him that it was the Darts championship.Wrinkling her nose in disgust of that fact.   
  
Akira started eating on her lovely Honey toast, taking her time to eat it slowly. Making mmm sounds all the while as she could see Nathaniel’ try to suppress his tongue from moisturising his lips. Which he retaliated by opening his wine gum pack and downing a fair few in one go.  
  
Personally if she ever found herself on a game-show. She would choose Mr Chips and that fine Irishman Roy instead. She would ace that like she used to ace her English classes back in Aberdeen Primary.  
  
“I was also going to bless you when we are together again in Japan. That would have made what I did in Britannia for Michelle and Adrianna as part of our little trade for their aid in getting the artefact look like the pre-show of her worlds smallest violin i played for her also that night.”   
  
Nathaniel finished by grabbing his banana from the table.   
  
Using his teeth to pry the top of it opened as the peel slowly came down of it and laying bare for Akira to see. She merely shrugged and continued with her toast, dipping the blueberries in the honey sauce.  
  
“I would have gone all-the-way-down, exactly how you like it.” Nathaniel demonstrating by entering all of the banana into his mouth. Holding it in for a few seconds before digging into it with his teeth.  
  
Swallowing about half of it as he continued to munch on it in his mouth as he chewed with his mouth open on purpose. Akira continued on with her strawberry crepe.  
  
“But now, well you be lucky if i share a bed with you once i’m over. Oh well, i guess i’ll just have to put Lucius there instead when you are fast asleep like i used to do back in the day with my first snake.” Nathan finished by consuming the rest of the banana with vigor, then throwing the skin right into the bin in the corner without evening looking at it.  
  
Akira merely raised her eyebrows at Nathaniel's full on display. Biting her lips as she brought a finger of her lips to be coy.  
  
“Oh really Nathaniel, you were going to do all those ravishing things to me and that it would top the show you gave me and our favourite siblings in New Blackpool. My my, how thoughtful of you to give me the preview of it all. I’m expecting a truly wondrous night when you join me here.” Akira said in response as she gave her finger a little lick in delight.   
  
“Indeed, there’s nothing like sharing a night of passion with the one person that fulfills you.” Nathaniel putting his hands behind his head as he grinned gleefully.  
  
Goddess, just thinking of it how that night is going to go reminded Akira of how pleasurable her bath had been for her today.  
  
She had needed to feel the warm sensation of a bath on her skin to wash off all that unpleasant feeling and stresses the day had brought her, she still was scolding herself while running the hot water for allowing to be drawn into a fight with Mr Kirihara. He certainly knew how to push her buttons. She had spent the first 5 minutes of her bath just lying at water level and blowing bubbles with her mouth while she steamed off.  
  
The nice warm moist water washing the dirt away from her body as she layed in a proper bath, Ryokans were never made for fit someone of her unique size. Bubbles tingling her nipples on her ever growing breasts as she ran her sponge across them. The feel of her favourite shampoo glossing in her hair and the smooth tense of her brush drying up the water afterwards and untangling the knots that often form in her hair all sent that tingling feeling up Akira’s spine.   
  
Only thing missing from it was the feeling of holding in her hands, the ever beautiful biceps and nips of her Nathaniel as he sits between her legs in the bathtub while she massages them, sharing the same height made stuff between them so much better both work and personal wise, pressing her face against his soft neck and giving a lick or two, Nathan really loved it when she plants little kisses on his cheeks. It causes him to giggle so adorably. No wonder he loved doing the french greeting with her.  
  
Along with the most important element. Having his buttocks right against her crotch for her to enter into eternal bliss.   
  
Of course, Akira took as much as she gave, which was a big part of why their relationship had progressed. There was nothing like feeling the cute little fangs of her viper nibbling on her ear or neck, or when she had her backdoor being knocked in. Oh the wonderful sensation of just being carried in his arms, sitting on his lap as he does marvellous things to her.  
  
“Right erm continuing on where we left off before all of this, I knew you would choose the best and relevant bits to pitch to Oboro and Saburo. It’s one of the things i treasure about you as my partner  Akira. You know how to take what I give you and style it to what you do best, which is selling our plans and propositions. And vice versa as well, in me being able to use any info you find or get out of people to inform my decisions or to complete the full picture i’m looking for in running our network. Since one must believe in the sales pitch they are giving to anyone, especially when we are dealing with a legend like Oboro Iga/Shinozaki. I have wanted to work with her for years”  
  
“Besides, if people can’t be bothered to read up on or uncover everything that is possible to uncover, to know their enemy. Their environment, the political players, the factions, people and groups on all sides in our line of work. Then they will end up the same fate as our predecessor here did. As corpses buried or burned to the ground. Or left to rot in the basement for the rest of their career filing paperwork. I have no intention of either happening to us.” Nathan finished by crossing his arms as if he had triumph in the FA Cup final.   
  
“Agreed, we have worked too far and sacrificed too much to let anyone stop us now.” Akira just nodded her head to Nathan.  
  
“So just to ask, what did you make of Oboro and her husband at the meeting? Were they as we have been led to believe?”  
  
“Oboro Kirihara/Shinozaki is perspective, gracious in her manners and in her decoration. And is not afraid to put her foot down as her quack demonstrated. She also showed that she had obviously been doing some digging on us and… from her husband's interrogation.”  
  
Nathaniel gave a slight chuckle at hearing Akira’s reply.  
  
“She actually quacked during your meeting? Oh this is too good, i’m going to love working with her. Since you are already on a first name basis with her. And what did you make of Saburo Kirihara?  
  
Akira felt her eyes and lips frowning at hearing his name.  
  
“Mr Kirihara was shall we say, was aggressive in challenging us and our intentions on the whole China affair. No doubt he believes that we are like Extra Order or the other merc groups that engage in the sort of behaviour some of his superiors engaged in during the war. Though this did allow me to gage what his views are. Though i believe he was influenced by the fact that I ahem, revealed myself to him?” Akira muttering the last bit out.  
  
Akira could see Nathaniel's lips curling up as both his eyebrows raised at the same time.  
  
“Akira, you didn’t did you?” Nathaniel’s voice lowering as he gripped the table.  
  
“I did, I let them see my neck area. So they know that I-am-a-woman and to show a sign of my trust to them.” Akira said non chantley.  
  
“W-Why did you do that Akira! You know how I feel about you doing that. Remember the last time you did that, it nearly got us all killed and we had to fight our way out of that camp. You know how dangerous it is, the amount of your people that have been assaulted or killed over it. Oh Akira, why put yourself at such risk like that?” Nathaniel practically crying out at this point as he motioned his hands over his head.   
  
Akira took a deep breath to compose herself, though that didn't stop her from glaring at Nathaniel for his words. This was exactly what she had meant by his perchance to lecturing.  
  
“Nathaniel, I was under no risk at anytime meeting with the two. Despite Mr Kirihara’s predictable reaction to it all. I know the risks, i’m the one who has to hide all the time. Hide my body, hide the truth from everybody but the few that do know, something you do not. This was my decision and I stand by it. Oboro was fine with it all and she will no doubt tell Sumeragi Natsumi of it, that will heighten her interest to us since she known to have a liking for people like us. Please Nat, accept the decision I made was mine alone to choose.” Akira said firmly as she stood her ground.  
  
For a few seconds, Nathaniel stuttered as as he ran his hands over his hair, as if trying to prevent himself pulling any of it out. Before facing Akira with his jaw clenching and eyebrows disappearing into his shades.  
  
“I-I don’t have to hide myself? Akira Maclean, you know better than anyone else that I have had to hide myself for years. To repress a part of myself that i was born with, that Society deemed a disability, a disease, not me, not my people, Society did. Don’t you ever say that I don’t know what it’s like to hide myself because you know that to be untrue.”  
  
Silence and awkward tension filled the rooms for a few minutes. Neither party letting up or backing down in the staring.  
  
Nathaniel eventually let out a tired sigh as he tapped his cane on the table.  
  
“Akira, your decisions are your decisions at the end of the day. I respect that, you are a grown person. Just as I know you respect that i’m only looking out for you because you are important to me and do not want you taking any unnecessary risks that could bring harm to you. Nor raising any possible tensions with anyone we work with. I know you are not fond of the Indians and some people in GC, but we need them right now to achieve our aims and goals. Debts are owed and i will see them paid. So please, do not risk yourself recklessly Aki. I got enough stresses to deal with at the moment.” Nathaniel stopping his cane form tapping any further said.  
  
“I know Nat I know. Don’t worry you know you can count on me to keep things in shape. I’m-I’m sorry for losing my temper there. But we have talked about about your tenancy to fall into lecturing others, when you don't mean to. To which you did then about my actions today. I’m not made out of glass plating which you well know. You trust me to represent our interests to people, so please trust me to decide who knows about my transition. By being open about it when i know i can be open about it, I can broaden other’s opinions and lessen ignorance about my people. Something i’m sure is what happened today.” Akira said as her eyes softened from it’s firm stare form before.  
  
Which caused Nathaniel to quiver his lips as his shoulders lumped.  
  
“Alright Aki, I won’t say anything else on the matter. I’m sorry for making you feel i was lecturing you on what to do, that wasn’t my intent at all. It’s never my intent to make you feel that you aren’t capable of deciding for yourself. Which you fully are. I just wish I could kiss your forehead to make you feel better.”  
  
“I appreciate it Nat, it really warms my heart to hear the sentiment. Apology accepted. Now shall we proceed with our discussion again?”  
  
“Ok, moving on, Now that we have met with Natsumi’s front people. It’s time for us to truly go deeper and see exactly what our prospective Japanese allies are truly made of, along with expanding our horizons as well. You still have the list of people i gave you Akira to look up and see if they could be of aid to us?” Nathan asked as he put his hand on his chin.   
  
“Yes I do, the list of people i am to enquire into and possibly seek out if i deem them to be sympathetic and capable to our cause. I’m planning on visiting them over the next week or two and have arranged meeting times with most of them.”  
  
“Excellent, definitely visit Dr Yoshi Mori at the University of Tokyo. The man’s thesis on Sakuradite and some of his prototypes I have read on cyber/robot technology is something i am fascinated to learn more of and possibly invest in. Especially since Kirihara Industries and Kurugui Corporations turned him down. He’s been rumored to be searching around for a backer for his projects, since the Clements have proven to be a disappointment so far in results and tech that we need for our operations beyond these lumps of tablets. If they don’t improve by next year and produce something for us to truly invest in. I’ll redirect our funds to other companies within the EU that are showing promising signs of producing some interesting tech.”  
  
“Will do, though just to note Nathan, Dr Mori has yet to respond to any of me messages i have sent both by letter and my messenger i sent over yesterday.”   
  
“See if you can visit him in person during a lecture or at his lab. I know you’ll find a way to meet him, you always do. Have Belyana, Marco and Alistair meet with the others if you don't have time to,  make sure the safe-place is ready in case things go belly up at the Conference next month. Make sure to grab some of the holo technology I hear is being studied on at Tokyo Tech when you visit Mori. Let Sancho know to continue preparations there and get in contact with Oboro’s persona as well. Out Bel on the Russian lead, as she has history with cheap arse Vasili who is apparently meeting with... is it the Kosa Council according to Sancho’s intel reports form Thailand?”  
  
“Of course. Dr Mori will make time for us and i’m sure his projects could be of some real use to us. Yes I believe that is the case with Mr Laptev and will allow Bel to proceed with that case, though may i ask why we are currently tracking his activities? I’m assuming it has some relevance to us and to Bel?” Akira deepening the tone of her voice said.  
  
She was interested in why her partner was digging up on somebody they hadn’t dealt with in years and had as far as Akira knew, been irrelevant to anyone but the people he was now with.  
  
“It does, Vasili has information about somebody in his organisation that’s been making waves in recent years in the underworld. Someone who apparently matches the description and details of someone we fought during the war and he has history with he wouldn't care to remember but would interest the people in question. Someone that could be of use to us concerning the situation in Russia with Euro Britannia sniffing around it from Turkey and Georgia. Who could be of use to Bel and her people there as they contain the mess the EU allowed to fester, along with other stuff they are rumored to have had a hand in. Plus, if their hotel business are planning to move into Japan as his presence indicates. It could be of interest to us in someway. Since we might need alternatives in the event we can’t get any of the Kyoto House to work with us. Not going to put all our eggs in Natsumi or Hui’s basket.”  
  
“Fair enough, though I hope you are thinking this through Nathaniel. On if we can rely in the long run on somebody that is in the criminal line of work or anyone else we are looking at.” Akira thinning her lips to show Nathaniel that she meant what she said and that he needed to take it into account.  
  
He positioned his body language and face to match Akira’s.   
  
“You know I am Akira, we wouldn't be we are today if we didn't think these things through. There’s no one scenario to all of this, in business you plan for all possible ones that could happen.”  
  
“Moving on, Is everything all set up for our base down at Haneda Ports as well when me and the rest of our unit come over in the next few weeks along with the ships we sent off from Newcastle yesterday? It’s been a real hassle sorting everything out for it since we did preliminary checks last year and chatted with the landowner there,” Nathan raising his eyebrows said as he moved his hand to rest his cheek on it.  
  
“It is, I signed the lease with the bureaucrat at the tax office yesterday, though it took pretty much three hours to do with the amount of paperwork and proof they wanted to transaction it all. I was sure he was trying to squeeze more money out of us as we sat for the first hour sorting out the costs each month. We’ve had more subtly dealing with the Scottish crime lords trying to extort us than this ninny. He obviously thought I would fold because of my gender. He didn't count on me knowing the Japanese laws of how much they can legally charge or the Key costs either.” Akira thinning her lips and frowning her eyebrows at remembering having to deal with that unpleasant man.   
  
Nathaniel sighed as he ran a hand over his face and his chin.  
  
“Bureaucrats, always think people don’t read up on contracts or laws or don’t grasp tax rates etc. and sadly too often they get away with it because the government doesn’t give people the information they need to know their rights on rent, on claiming money back on the poll tax or discount on Council Taxes. If it wasn’t for services like the Citizen Advice Bureau or other charities we fund to help people in need since the Government won’t. Loads more would be homeless or struggling with the mess the piss-ants down in Westminster and Whitehall have left us. No such thing as society my arse you old hag,” Nathaniel ranted bitterly.   
  
“I mean how how many times has Dinky Dick been condescending to us in our annual budget meetings or found ways to spite us because of bellends like Jane? Or thought we couldn't grasp what he was saying despite how obtuse he was being. If Ganabati hadn’t punched him out at the christmas duo last year, i would have by now. I tell you Akira, sometimes I wonder why we don’t just pack up and form our own land? Our own society, laws etc. It’s only a few more years until the place we could call our new home is supposed to appear again for us to do a new expedition to.”   
  
Akira merely sighed at the mention of that last bit. This was one of Nathaniel’s more grandiose interests that she worried was becoming an obsession of his along with the whole matter of Arturia and all the drama surrounding it.  
  
“Nat, it’s is a mere legend within our lore and history texts. We have tried looking for it before. We found at best a few rocks and possible remnants of a ruin in the ocean archaeology experts with their own equipment we sent down there. I want to believe in that the mystical place our ancestors sung tales about, of somewhere that’s said to protect those that follow the old ways. That it’s is real as much as you do. But we shouldn't put so much stock into it when our homes require our help.” Akira said softly. Not wanting to be a sourpuss, but hoping that Nathaniel would see the rationality of not letting heads climb too high into a cloud that was thin enough as it was.  
  
“Yes, but still. I have faith that we will find it one of these days. Especially since what is supposed to be there would allow us to create a place where we would truly belong and decide things for ourselves. Since society and even other minority groups refuses to recognise the autistic and trans community for what we are. It’s up to us and the binding our communities have formed to change that. As history proves that sitting and waiting achieves nothing. If you want the government, powers or whoever to change their ways, you have to kick them right up the arsehole.. England will not be my home again until it is purged of all that currently taints it.”  Nathaniel bellowed out as raised his fist up into the air.  
  
“Indeed, together we will forge a place for ourselves by our own hands.” Akira bringing her hands together in a prayer gesture.  
  
“We shall also achieve by making sure that our potential partners in Asia are up to our standards. Have you arranged to meet Sumeragi Natsumi yet Akira?”   
  
“Oboro said she would talk to Sumeragi about me meeting her within the next week either at one of her clubs or somewhere that would guarantee privacy between us.”  
  
“Set the date as soon as possible, we need to iron out the details if any potential alliance is to take shape, we must have in place before the conference happens just two weeks time and Hui knows for sure that she can walk into it with a plan in case anything happens. Not to mention we need to know for sure if Sumeragi Natsumi really does have a reasonable chance of becoming Prime Minister, if she really has any sincerity in her views on disabled people and on if she really has a real interest in our culture and our history. Along with if erm, certain rumors about her have any basis?” Nathaniel growing sour at the end said as he scowled.  
  
“Certain rumours?”  
  
“About her alleged drinking and partying habits, Gene who has met her before told me of when he saw her last year along with the Malcal family. She got so drunk that she ended up dancing on a piano and then falling through one of those sliding doors where a family was celebrating their kids party. I want to be sure it’s not going to be a problem or that she will do anything that will undermine her position. There is too much at stake in all of this and too much work that has and is being put in to be undermined by the possibility that she can’t hold her vices in check and cost herself of her ambitions. So i want this rumor either confirmed or squashed”   
  
Akira found herself drawing a slow breath as she felt her fingers pining the thin line of her bridge. Dragging out the skin for just a quick sec as she composed herself before she replied to Nathaniel’s word.  
  
“Nat, don’t you think your being a tad harsh in jumping to a conclusion on someone we haven’t met yet based on rumours and alleged stories that might or might not have happened according to Mr Smilas? I think we should give Miss Sumeragi the benefit of the doubt and put faith in her abilities and being able to handle her vices. Drinking is far from the worst of vices we have dealt with in people we do business.”  
  
Which caused Nathaniel to sigh. Taking a sip of water before he answered Akira’s words.  
  
“I wish I was Akira, but you know what the scenario is here and the context of it all we are dealing with here. As you have explained to me in the past, Japan has and still does look at Woman less as equals and capable in their own right. More as being there to advance the male line and to basically sacrifice their agency, their lives, their happiness being reduced to insignificance in the name of patriarchy, tradition and culture. The ingraining of it throughout Japan’s history, culture that extends to current day. Despite notable women like Murasaki Shikibu and her wonderful writing of the Heian period. Hôjô Masako and her marvellous ability that led her to become the Nun Shogun. Or even today with people like Natsumi’s mother Kaida, the Sly Silver Fox that has the ear of all those that have a measure of power, status or wealth in Japan and campaigned for years for more women rights, more investments across the world. What a person she is.” Nathaniel's stopped to allow himself another sip of his water and consuming a fudge from his pick and mix. Taking his sweet time of chewing on it.  
  
Akira took another bite of her Crepe. Savouring the rich texture of the strawberry and cream in her mouth.  
  
“The fact there is only I believe at most a marginal number of women in the Diet. The rivalries of Kyoto House to consider. Means Natsumi has a hell of a fight on her hands just to become Prime Minister. To which anyone that opposes her and that will be a decent number, means she will be scrutinized, challenged and rumors like the ones of her drinking, being drunk at conferences and behaviour at do’s will spread. Which makes it all the more vital we know for sure that our investment in all of this has a measure of protection and that Natsumi can live up to her end of that and not let any vices, any doubts or any possible skeletons in the closet hamper her or us. We cannot afford to have another slip up like the ones that happened with Russia and Eastern Europe thanks to an EU that after nearly a decade when it came into existence with the Paris treaty of 87,”   
  
“That still can’t decide what it want to be with all of the hassle between the Council of Forty that all but allows dictators of Africa to have a voice there. Where the two nitwits that claim to be our counterparts to vulgary indulge on their hobbies. Three Presidents that veto anything the other offers or out votes anything that threatens their position, Euroforce trying to centralise everything. The EU Justiciar body trying to bring law changes and rights that governments won’t look kindly on. The risks we are taking in trying to bring about these changes are high and the consequences if we fail we cannot even think of. The places we know we will be heading along the way. Makes it all the more vital we pad our ship now so we don’t end up in Davy Jones's locker or as corpses stewing away where the world forgets and ignores us.” Nathaniel said as stopped to catch his breath for speaking so long.  
  
Finishing off the rest of his water vividly. Perching his mouth afterwards at re-hydrating himself.  
  
Akira kept a blank face through all of this, not giving anything away in the process.  
  
“I know Nat, I understand better than anyone else you know of everything you have said. But let me meet with Natsumi, get to know her and her people. Of what she thinks of the situation in China, of the EU and us. Convince her to truly go through and commit to bringing changes this world needs. Quell your doubts lest they eat you Nathan. Besides, if you really didn’t think Sumeragi or Ying had a chance in all of this. We wouldn’t be offering to support them now would we hmm?” Akira said as she allowed herself a sly smirk.  
  
This made Nathaniel laugh out loud.  
  
“Ooohh, look at you all cocky Akira, well played love. Like i have said before. It’s why you are there. Because I trust you to build it all up. To smooth everything out so all of us benefit. I think we have covered everything relating to our business. Thank goddess we have, but business needed to be covered. The vid you gave Oboro today will provide her what she needs to make her move with Natsumi,”  
  
“Anything else you want to discuss before i leave you to rest up?”   
  
Was it that time already? Akira looked out of her window and saw that it had already gotten dark. Obviously they had been chatting for over an hour now if it was total blackness outside as the glitter of lights indicated.   
  
Akira’s face became serious, she wanted to know if there was anything that was concerning her partner.   
  
“Outside of our work and duties, how are you doing Nathaniel? Are you sleeping better than you were a few weeks ago when you had those nightmares again about ...a-about Romania?”   
  
Nathaniel’s face basically went solid frozen at Akira's question, clearly he wasn’t expecting to be asked about that. Not a single muscle on his face was moving, his lips gaping as he seemed to try and get a word out or two. His gloved hands merely scratching the table as his breathing became.  
  
“Romania...i-i, Oh-oh godness no-no… those poor children. What they-did-to-them-there. All those bodies.” Nathaniel weep as he removed his glasses to cover his face in his hands.  
  
Oh Goddess, Akira was worried this would happen if she asked, but she couldn’t just leave it aside when it was clear still affecting her partner deeply. Akira’s face fraught with worry as Nathaniel continued to mumble incoherent words into his hands and his breathing grew harder and harder.  
  
“Nathan remember, breath deeply, slowly, take your time in gathering your thoughts and words. Find something to write on if you need to. Remember what Kayci said in our confessions to her.” Akira practically whispered to her partner.   
  
To which Nathaniel nodded as his breathing became more controlled. Though still heavily with his hands starting to tremble as his anxieties crept up.  
  
Akira remembers just much Nathaniel torments himself over it. She had caught him practically torturing himself about it more than once. Once, she found him watching a pink vid after he went silent, went out and came back with a whole case of video cassettes, sat them and watched each and every one of them, until that one he had been looking for. that was obviously bad quality and cut up, but the few bits where it worked. What it showed, the tears and cries… the bruises and helplessness of ones so young. Especially the one that covered her face as she cried her heart out in pain. That sent Nat into a flood of tears as they did… things so sick and inhuman that she slapped his face, told him to never watch it again as she couldn't bear to ever to or to see him harm himself and her as well like that.  
  
It had truly taken a true demon to force those kids into the ginger house to be gobbled up. Even more than what those lads did to the Jaime kid at the same time as well.  
  
‘Sometimes I wonder, does he secretly force himself to watch it in the way he can when i’m not around? If there’s one thing about Nathaniel that has always been apart of him since i have known him. Is his hatred of himself, not getting something right and remembering his mistakes. Especially those he cannot do anything about.’  
  
The amount of sweating as he cries in pain and sorrow in his sleep. Everytime, Akira would pull him so close to hold him as tightly as she could in bed. Him grasping her in return as she ran her hand on his back as he pushed his face into her neck, the sweat of tears drizzling down her body, whispering into his ear words of comfort as he slowly cooled down from reliving the experience and running a hand through his messy, dripping in sweat but soft hair. Gently running a smooth cool towel over him, changing the bed and pillow sheets so they could sleep comfortably.  
  
Afterwards holding hands, or Akira resting Nathaniel's head on her breasts, as they fell back into their dreams. Pleasant dreams where the two could share in.  
  
Her mother had said relationships were a lot of hard work. Hers was no different, sometimes it felt tiring to deal with the things she does. Words were said when sleep deprivation affected things. Having such shadows linger on in the cold darkness and other… other things that haunted Akira truly tested things at times.  
  
Despite how much sleep was lost each time it happened or how annoyed some of the other people in the barracks found it, gossips among some of the mercs of how unmanly it was to cry over such stuff, of being a sign of weakness, the level of callousness that made Akira despise such vermin and remember how most in the GC were not their friends, not their comrades or true believers. It would never stop her or Nathaniel from being that open to their feelings. To show they did cry and other stuff.  
  
Nathaniel was always there for her to lean her head on his shoulder when she needed it. Does the same for her when she has her own demons pop up of running the towel, changing pillows for her to sleep on a fresh one, make her a cup of Tetley’s. Singing or humming a tune to send her into a lullaby. Her favourite was the spin on a classic.  
  
♪ My heart is pierced by Cupid  
I disdain all glittering gold  
There is nothing can console me  
But my jolly Aki-kun   
  
Many a pretty blooming  
Young girl we did behold  
Reclining on the bosom  
Of her jolly sailor Aki-kun  
  
Come all you pretty fair maids  
Whoever you may be  
Who love a jolly sailor  
That plows the raging sea  
  
While up aloft in storm  
From me his absence mourn  
And firmly pray arrive the day  
He's never more to roam   
  
Should she return in pov'rty  
From o'er the ocean far  
To my tender bosom  
I'll press my jolly tar   
  
My heart is pierced by Cupid  
I disdain all glittering gold  
There is nothing can console me  
But my jolly Aki-kun ♪   
  
Making a joke to lighten her up on her down days. Cuddling her with up even when she had a cold or migraine. Running her a nice warm bath and moving the sponge smoothly and carefully across her body. Always accompanying her to the clinic for her checkups, no matter what their schedule is like.  
  
No matter how much the hedgehog pricks in a relationship. Of pain and other negative emotions propping up. Their relationship would weather all storms. This was their life and it’s one they both chose.   
  
Finally, Nathaniel composed himself enough for him to get the words.  
  
“I’m, I’m sorry Akira, no matter how much I try to clear my mind of what happened there, no matter how much I tell myself i couldn't do anything about it or tell you and Kayci about it. I still see the tubs of floating bodies, the sprawling of blood all across the floor we walked on. Still, hear the never ending tune... of rhymes being sung, by those that were so twisted by those that should have given them a life all children deserve. One of… happiness. Yet denied, because of those that did those things to them, denied because of that fucking malaka and the EU let them slip through their fingers and allowing that masked twat to take them. B-because of us not doing what we should have done.” Nathan said, his body slumped in his chair as he looked away from the screen.   
  
“Nathan, you can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened to the kids, it ended up out of our control we simply couldn't no prevent even if we went back and did it all over again. Especially the two that we know were not too long ago well... you know. You need to let this go.”   
  
This caused Nathan to turn his face back to Akira. Pointing a finger directly at the screen.  
  
“If they are truly as the rumors say they are, then why is it that I still hear them calling out to us? Why do I still hear their rhymes of sadness playing in my dreams. Why do the rumors speak of creatures that walk around with fangs bearing out reach our ears every so often. Hell I even went all the way to Southern Africa to confront the Bighorn about his last job, his account merely gave me when it supposedly happened and who was there,”   
  
“Had our people in Thailand check out the other rumor that’s been going about. Even gave them permission to dig up. They found nothing. If there's no body. Then someone is not dead. You know Akira that lab had certain things going on that would give us the clear picture we need. It bears all the markings of- you know who. The one we have been after for years, the one that-that. No Akira, we cannot let this go. You didn’t let what happened in Glasgow to us go and I helped you with that despite all the attention it brought us and-what you did to them all, they are still running a investigation Akira, still looking for any clue that will lead them to us. I will not hear otherwise when it comes to all of this!”  
  
Putting down the tablet as Akria could hear him get up from his chair and walk away along with what sounded like him taking off his gloves as he walked into the hallway. Putting Lucius back into his glass window.  
  
Akira, clammed up at those spoken words, eyebrows furrowing in thought, mouth gaping like a fish. Stumbling to try and find the right thing to say. If she was physically with Nathaniel. She would know what to do, embrace him and tell him it’s not his fault. But that wasn’t an option. She had to do something here.  
  
His cowboy boots echoing the noises as he seemed to walking up and down. Akira could hear sounds of mumbling as well.   
  
Akira knew that Nathaniel pace himself, it was his way of what was called stimming when he wasn’t spinning his cane.   
  
A thud came a second later. Nathaniel was prone to banging into things, he never had the best of coordination, every now and again he would bump his knee into a table, fit his foot into the side of the door every no and again. Another trait of his Autism she knew.  
  
“Fucking paint can.” A loud kick and spilling noise echoed across the floor Nathaniel was on. Akira could see the slosh of white paint dribble down.  
  
Then came what sounded up thumping against a wall. Oh Goddess, he was punching walls again with his bare hands. Akira knew she had to stop Nathan before he bloody his hands as he’s done in the pass boxing walls in frustration.  
  
What could Akira possib- ah she knew. She often used this when signs of a meltdown were apparent. Music and the sound of instrument could bring peace to even the most frazzled of autistic minds.  
  
Moving her tablet so that she still had view of Newcastle, straddling the strap around her neck, quickly prepping her vio and strings.   
  
Taking a quick breath t as she prepared to take stage.  
  
*Stroke*  
  
The tune of The Wren played as Akira lightly ran her lin across her Crwth as she immersed herself in the field of sound, striking each string as the dances of classic Celtic music carried across the waves, the through the mountains, the fields of grass, all the way to where they could be heard on the other side of the world. While the sounds of Crwth mostly occupied her ears, she could still hear the slightest hint of clicking boots moving. Picking up the pace, she continued to dig her instrument into the side of her body. Crafted polished woodpine poking at her kidney.  
  
Suddenly the view of her partner became clear, though he wasn’t holding the tablet. It must be Marcus holding it. Her partner slowly turned his head to face. The Splats of blood on the wall said it all. Though Akira couldn't see Nat’s hands and no doubt the damage done to them.  
  
Seeing her partner in view again, gave her more confidence to press on. Nathaniel taking a deep breath as he held out his arms, as if to accept the offering he was being given. Like a pouring of rain to wash away the ill markings. With the bloodied marks of his knuckles leering down on his tattoos that covered his hands.  
  
A clearing of his throat. His breathing and anxiety cooling further as he prepared to join her in the dance. His lip began releasing the choral that was in them.   
  
“Droolin, Droolin, where's your nest?   
Tis in the bush that I love best   
Tis in the bush, the holly tree,   
Where all the boys do follow me  
Mrs. Clancy's a very good woman,   
A very good woman, a very good woman,   
Mrs. Clancy's a very good woman,   
She give us a penny to bury the wren.”  
  
Her Nathaniel rhymed as he matched her pace and continued the rhyme a few more times. Lips widening all the while as the feeling of pleasure embraced both of them as Akira slowly brought her lin to quiet the melody they were in.  
  
A sigh of joy escaping Akira’s lips as she finally finished. Nathaniel did the same as he took a seat when.  
  
“Goddess bless you Akira, that was exactly what i nee- ah!”  
  
*Crrreeeeek*   
  
The sight of the chair finally giving away to the weight that had beheld it all day.  
Sending her Nathaniel tumbling to the ground backwards as the sight of his butt mooned her.  
  
Akira tried, but the force of laughter couldn't be withheld. Covering her mouth as she laughed via her teeth. She knew it was going to break at somepoint that chair. But crikey, the timing of it just now was spot on.  
  
The tablet on Nat’s end was shaking hard as well, Indicating that Marcus found it hilarious also. Nat slowly pulled himself up to his feet with Marcus lending his golden gloved hand to help him out. Hand covering his mouth as he failed to hide his own laughter at breaking his own chair.  
  
“Serves me right for sitting on that chair, oh gods we needed that.” Nathaniel said as he continued to chuckle while he composed himself.   
  
The feed of the tablet went silent for a moment as Akira could hear what sounded like Marcus jumping back to his lookout position.   
  
Wincing a bit as he brought his black leather gloves back to his hands. But not before using what was left of his water to drench the blood out.  
  
By this point Akira had gotten all of the laughter out of her system.  
  
“Are you okay Nat? I mean not just from the fall, but from everything we were talking about before.”   
  
“I-I’ve been better Akira, considering what we just talked about. But, it was helpful to get it out. To remind ourselves of our regrets, of our own humanity and what we have at stake. Of those injustices that are to be righted in this world. Of the work we need still need to do.”   
  
“Something that needs clearing up that I need to know, you said the Polis are still looking into… what happened back then. Where did you hear or find out this information from?”  
  
“From our person inside the Glasgow bobbies Akira. They said they came across the investigation office with photos of the perps that attacked us and the report of it they filed when they questioned us at the Hospital. Obviously they wouldn’t be looking into it unless someone told them to or because it relates to we are doing in Scotland with your contacts at Scottish Parliament and businesses.”   
  
“Well, it’s not likely they will find anything, we were pretty through with the cleaning up process and our contacts will make sure any investigation doesn't go far.”  
  
“But still, they have better tech these days than they had back then. It’s not like the families have forgotten their loved ones that someone will take notice of, it’s something we need to keep an eye on for sure. Especially as the Scots look for more powers for Devolution from the gits down in London. Something they have always loathed to loosen their grips on. Keep an eye on it all Akira. Even with you being the other side of the world.”   
  
“Will do Nat.”   
  
“I know, but enough now. I better get down to the Strawberry before Ganabati wonders what’s taken me, got to finish planning for this upcoming footie match we are putting together with King Kev and the ahem, Dubai Football team during a spring break period they have coming up that Ganabati’s bosses will be there for and the other tribes. You have a nice rest now, but just before that. Could you do one last thing?”  
  
“And that is?”   
  
“Could you play a bit of Crwth for Tokyo, let them know the beauty of our music, let them know we are here to craft our ballad. Let them here the joy and salvation that we bring.”  
  
“Oh alright. I will be sure to let them know we are here. Good night Nathan.” Akira finished, taking her glove off her left hand between shuffling her Crwth between her neck. As she put it on the tablet.  
  
“Night Akira.” Nat doing the same with his left hand, the vein tattoos on their hands connecting them wherever they were in the world. Until feed gave way.  
  
Akira made her way to her balcony. Opening the door as she stepped onto ti,.  
  
From her view, she could just see the Imperial Palace where the Emperor and his family once lived in when it was Edo. Now it served as a beacon for the Sumeragi’s whenever they were in Tokyo, of a time that still lingered on in it’s own way, of a remainder of Japan’s culture no matter how much it changed. Which many in Japan look to the Sumeragi’s for, being one of the last connections to the Emperor's divine bloodline. With the Kururugi and Kuboin Clans the only other clans with strong connections as well.  
  
Bring her vio to her strings, smoothing her throat and tinkering just to make sure all was right.  
  
Akira played the night away.


	7. Peace Sells But Who's Buying Act One

**A/N:**

 

**Blackmambauk: Hi everyone, we are finally here with Peace Sells But Who’s buying. Nearly a year after the first chapter of Roanapur Connection was released. Apologies for the length of time it’s taken for it to come out. Early versions done either didn't convey what was needed or feel like it flowed or did justice to the characters in question. To which I take full responsibility for as I feel i didn't outline stuff clearly to the commissioners chosen, who worked off what I gave them or what they interpreted from it. Along with my own attempts failing due to writers block on my part for months when it came to this chapter,  Which is frustrating to deal with and why writing the chapters themselves is the least favourite part of it all for me.**

 

**This is despite writing on other chapters during the last year as well. So that you had something to read and because I needed to seed details and build stuff up for this chapter to land. All of which adds up to a Prolonged Prologue, though thankfully not as long as GRM’s Game of Thrones was.**

 

**The research, the outlining, worldbuilding, thinking of ideas, characterization, themes, visualizing a location, appearance, commissioning artists to grow their talent. That’s what I enjoy most. It’s why I relate to George Lucas who felt the same when it came to writing and directing.**

 

**All of this has been a good learning curve for me. As all of this is my first writing project I am managing and writing for that isn't part of anyone else's work or lore etc. Every step of the way i’m working on myself, my writing, my ability to handle managing it all. All of which beings both positives and negatives with it.**

 

**But I want to thank Waggleton aka Seth Rollins and Vanilla Metal for their time and contributions that are reflected in the final version written by my close friend and writing partner Blackmanaburning.**

 

**Who took the outline I had done, added to it as we talked through it and has nailed everything in it with the skill, passion, eye for detail and research that makes it a real privilege to work with her. It’s why I cannot wait to continue our partnership with her now co-heading Roanapur Connection.**

 

 **Just wanted to run this by you all, i'm thinking of changing the username for my fanfiction accounts and on DA to reflect that any projects or writing I do are of a ensemble project and no one person stands out as is the case for this fic. Where I work with a number of writers like BlackManaBurning and VanillaMetal.** **  
** **  
** **So a unique name that represents something that shows it's a ensemble team working on each chapter of not just RC, but other fics people do or projects etc. Quite like how the owners of Rockstar's the Houser brothers operate in not making anything the studio does revolve around them.** **  
** **  
** **So i'm thinking of what name it could be changed to. As I would like to get a logo done for it and possibly more if there is a level of interest in it and it takes off. Since this could have some legging as a brand and also that if I ever have to drop out or reduce duties over my own projects, then it can be possible for others to continue on with it. This way it would make it easier for other writers or artists etc to post stuff up here. Share it equally etc.** **  
** **  
** **As one of the sources of influence for this idea is the Team DragonStar team on ff.net.  https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2904814/Team-Dragon-Star. Where they have a number of writers who each work on different stuff and help each other etc and there is equal promotion of each fic project. Since I always like helping people out on their writing and getting more people to view them etc.** **  
** **  
** **This is all very much a idea at this point and one that would need a lot of work, people committed to it and to benefit all those that would get involved etc** **  
** **  
** **Any feedback, interest would be appreciated.**

 

**But enough from me. Here’s Black to give her input working on this chapter. Enjoy the chapter**

 

**Blackmanaburning: Hello everyone! This is BlackManaBurning/Mana/The Bird Queen (for those who may know me by my other names haha) writing this as I am just about to finish up the final scenes of the chapter… or I guess at this rate it’s more like a mini-novella!**

 

**Originally this chapter was planned to be about 10,000 words and take about a month to write from outline to completion (sees the nearly 30,000 word tally and the fact that it’s been about 2 ½ months), but after talking to Blackmambauk and seeing all the drafts and detail he, Seth Rollins, Vanilla Metal and others put into their initial work to get the chapter rolling, I really wanted to make sure to do justice to all the effort everyone put into growing this fic into a real work of art crossover.**

 

**No spoilers of course, but this chapter marks a huge transition point in Roanapur Connection, when we leave behind much of the simmering political posturing preparation so iconic in the world of Code Geass and begin to close in on Black Lagoon’s characters (and their rather, let’s say “rougher” approach to things).**

 

**As always, it’s been an absolute pleasure working with a visionary like Blackmambauk to help bring the ideas of this crossover fic to life! As an avid Code Geass and Black Lagoon fan myself, it was a wonderful excuse for me to give another look at the anime and manga (while calling it “research,” which of course it was *adjusts glasses*) and try to spot new ways for the worlds to cross over and contribute to the fic myself.**

 

**If you would like to support this fic and the work being done by the many people involved (and perhaps see more than one chapter every several months) be sure to give Blackmambauk a shout and perhaps consider supporting our growing group on our soon-to-be new Patreon account! You’ll get to see art WIPs, previews of chapters, have the ability to chat with other avid followers of Roanapur Connection and its creators/writers/artists, with plans for more to come!**

 

**So without further ado, I hope you enjoy this newest chapter/installment to the “main” storyline of Roanapur Connection!**

 

**-Mana**

 

* * *

 

**[Date: 06/04/1995 ATB, Time: 5:40 p.m., Hunan Province, China]**

 

Nestled amid mountains to the east, south, and west, as a babe in arms of Kwan Yin, vast fields of young rice stalks stretched their green shoots toward the glittering sun.

 

Only a truly resilient people could eke out a living in this veritable wilderness, surviving as a spotty union of villages and towns divided by vast expanses of untamed land. It was in this place many throughout east Asia could find their oldest roots: a place essentially untouched by modern civilization, and a place where war had little reason or opportunity to reach.

 

 _‘This too, may soon come to an end.’_ Emperor Xiang Qing peered down upon his country from the high perch of a helicopter. His thin lips cracked into a narrow grin. These nostalgic moments happened frequently as of late, which he gradually came to terms with in these final days of his great and magnanimous rule.

 

 _“This is S7. We have visual of the Magnolia. Proceeding to landing site,”_ a voice crackled over the CB radio.

 

Xiang’s dark eyes followed the single dark line streaking the countryside, that of the Imperial Railway which carved through the land’s jagged mountains and cut through its dense forests. The railway kept to a path with little variation, insisting the land suit the railway’s purposes unlike the abodes of commoners which sought to blend into the landscape with little distinction.

 

Resting upon the tracks in a narrow breadth of flat land was the Royal Train, the fastest engine in all of continental China—in no small part thanks to the sakuradite secretly employed alongside a more conventional gas engine—unabashedly emblazoned in vermillion and gold.

 

Xiang folded his hands in his lap and waited to alight. Several of the attack helicopters part of his entourage touched their skids down in the open swath of land alongside the train.

 

The soldiers operating the helicopters remained within their cockpits while a handful of red-coated guards disembarked and precisely swept the area, leaving not so much as a single pebble unturned.

 

_“Area clear. The Phoenix is cleared to land....”_

 

With the grace of a crane swooping down for a landing, Xiang’s helicopter found easy purchase on the barren gravel. The remaining helicopters hovered above, their guided missiles and heavy machine guns clearly visible to those below.

 

The door to Xiang’s helicopter slid open.

 

“Your Majesty,” a guard draped in red and black robes said. Foregoing a bow for the sake of expediency, the bulky guard quickly assisted Xiang out of the protected cabin.

 

Xiang no more than toed the ground before a sea of red enveloped him, obliterating his view of the magnificent landscape

 

The Emperor’s golden ceremonial robes flickered in the wind crafted by the helicopter’s spinning rotor blades. His elite guard ushered him toward the awaiting train, in perfect step to the monarch’s stride, the same as they might escort the world’s largest and most valuable gold nugget.

 

A door to the rear of the central train car, a windowless car with notably sturdier wheels to withstand the weight of the large container,  popped out of the seamless metal shell. The door slid open, making a 4 inch thick bump on the outside of the car. Specially made to safely transport the most precious of cargoes through even the most uncertain terrain, the car was made using enough metal to craft several war tanks.

 

Once Xiang was securely within, the door slid shut and bolted behind him. The only source of light inside the car emitted from several dull yellow bulbs which dotted the ceiling of the narrow corridor Xiang and two of his guards found themselves in, a corridor no more than a quarter of the car’s overall thickness.

 

“... stabilised, so we can resume travel at any time,” a stout old _nǎinɑi_ in a spotless doctor’s uniform said to the red emblazoned guardsman stationed in the car.

 

Xiang strode with his back straight, planting his feet firmly with every step, toward the pair. Upon sighting him, the guard bowed deeply to his Emperor, carefully so as not to disturb his loaded gun.

 

“I would like to see the Empress,” Xiang spoke with a voice strong and weathered as the oldest mountains.

 

Only now noticing her Emperor, the doctor fell kowtow with her foreheads upon the spotless steel flooring. However, she kept her hands a hair’s breadth above the floor out of consideration for her duty to the Empress.

 

“Please, rise,” Xiang said with a gentle, almost fatherly tone to the woman whose years were much beyond even his. He waved his arm with a regal air, the gold of his robes glittering in the dull yellow lighting.

 

The doctor rose, a lifetime’s experience etched into her face in the form of countless wrinkles and crow’s feet that scratched deep into the corners of her eyes.

 

Keeping her face reverently bowed to her Emperor, a gesture all the more exaggerated thanks to the slight curvature of her backbone after years spent tending to the sick and the dying, she turned and faced the innermost wall. She lifted the lanyard hanging around her neck and slid an ID card through a near-imperceptible card slot in the wall.

 

A small red light lit up in the wall, and a sliding door wheeled open.

 

Xiang’s personal guardsmen—a duo whose bodies perfectly balanced strength and flexibility in their athletic builds—took up positions on either side of the door. Xiang turned toward the guard originally stationed in the car.

 

“Contact Chen and Hui Ying. Tell them both the Empress and I will be late,” Xiang ordered. He brought his hands together beneath the billowing sleeves of his robe. _‘They will simply have to make due on their own power, for now.’_

 

“Yes, Emperor!” The soldier lifted his head at the order. He made for the forward end of the car and a private communications line that formed the sole connection between the interior of the Empress’ closed-off car and the outside world.

 

Xiang raised a hand and motioned for the doctor to stop before she followed him into the inner room of the car.

 

“I’d appreciate some time alone with the Empress, if you determine she’s able,” Xiang requested.

 

“The Empress at present is resting, but able,” the doctor responded without hesitation. “However, I must be beside her once the train resumes motion.”

 

“I trust your judgment.” Xiang parted his hands and musingly stroked his lily-white beard. Turning to the doctor, Xiang gave her a slight bow which was outdone only by the two men stationed at either side of the door. “You have my eternal gratitude, Xiaojian Eng.”

 

“It is an honor,” the doctor chokingly responded with a bow of her own, her words barely making it to his ear before the door slid shut between her and Xiang.

 

Inside the car was silent, save for the steady _beep…beep…beep-_ ing of a digital heartbeat. Xiang turned around to see the interior. His eyes quickly locked on a hanging IV bag and monitors, which connected via wires and tubes to an ornately decorated, gold-gilt bed that’d been firmly bolted to the floor.

 

Xiang could’ve wept at the sight of his wife, Wu. Dressed in plain white robes, her thin, pale body was nearly invisible beneath her thick white bedding.

 

Not even the sickness that stole the ruddiness from Wu’s cheeks and the liveliness from her step could reduce the emotion Xiang felt to see her again. It was always like this, even in his youth, the two never knowing when some plot or other might result in Xiang or Wu’s death. But Xiang never felt it more acutely than now between Britannia baring its ravenous fangs at China and Wu’s taking ill.

 

‘ _We agreed it would be best if we travelled separately,’_ Xiang’s tight shoulders slumped. _‘Forgive me,_ lăopó _, but when I heard you’d taken a turn, I could not bear to stay away.’_

 

Xiang padded silently over the sterile floor. He knelt down at Wu’s bedside, crushing the embroidered red phoenix pattern on his robes beneath his knees. Xiang listened to the steady beeping of Wu’s heartbeat, and watched a stray silver-grey hair joyously twirl at the tip of her nose with her every breath.

 

Xiang leaned toward Wu’s ear, and clasped her icy fingers between his warm hands.

 

“Magnolias wish the gods gifted them with beauty and strength like yours,” Xiang whispered.

 

The words no more than escaped Xiang’s lips before Wu shot up from her pillow, her sallow almond eyes stretched to their utmost size in panic. Wu’s heart rate monitor skipped and jumped, the tempo increasing along with Xiang’s boyish grin.

 

“Xiang! What are you doing here?” Wu sputtered on sight of him. “Unless I’ve arrived at Vermillion City already….” Her eyes turned around her windowless cabin for some sign of confirmation before eventually narrowing on a chuckling Xiang.

 

“Hello darling,” Xiang said. He held back his laughter as best he could. “We’re in Zhurong Feng—”

 

“Zhurong Feng?” Wu’s wide eyes sharpened on her husband, her surprise instantly turning to mortified rage. “You old fool!”

 

Mustering up all her strength, Wu used her one hand not currently clasped between Xiang’s to punch Xiang’s gilded chest with all the ferocity of a newborn kitten.

 

Wu’s blood pressure rocketed with the sudden stress. Her thin body buckled and heaved in a fit of haggard coughing that lasted several seconds before calming down.

 

“I must be dreaming,” Wu lisped, shaking her head. Xiang took both Wu’s hands between his. “You can’t be here. It’s too dangerous. All our most loyal eyes abroad are focused in Thailand… they’re too occupied trying to trace the connection between Britannia and this new threat we found lurking right under our noses to focus on anything else, while those at home are too busy placing their bets with either Xu Ding, or that tiger in monkey’s fur Roku to be of any reliable use. Here we are doing all in our power just trying to prevent a war with Britannia, and yet the Eunuchs think only of how to benefit themselves….”

 

Wu’s pitching voice calmed as Xiang warmed her hands. Eventually the heart monitor returned to its normal rhythm of beeps, and Wu’s blood pressure dropped and stayed within an acceptable range.

 

“We’ve always done all in our power to ensure Chen and Hui Ying success, regardless of which road China takes.” Xiang lifted himself off the floor. His knees creaked and crackled beneath his robes until he settled beside Wu on her bed. “The path they walk will be the one they choose.”

 

“You speak as if you believe Hui Ying could bear the weight of China on her shoulders!” The fine lines around Wu’s eyes and nose darkened in a sneer. She pulled her hands out of Xiang’s warm grasp and planted them defiantly in her lap. “That child wilts under the high noon sun, and needs anyone speaking to be within a foot of her ear!” A single tear flowed over from Empress Wu’s right eye, which she promptly covered over with one hand, a gesture that hadn’t changed from her youthful courtesan’s days. Her voice trembled, “We should never have allowed Hui Ying to attend the summit along with Chen. Malcolm almost refused outright when we asked for his consideration of her health in regards to the conference’s time. Sending one of his children as representative instead… this Charles fellow isn’t even Malcolm’s heir!”

 

Xiang nodded, agreeing with Wu and all her worries. He placed a comforting hand on Wu’s bony back, his rigid posture betraying tension and troubles of his own.

 

“Perhaps… we coddled Hui Ying more than necessary,” Xiang admitted. “She’s exceeded expectation time and again in her other duties. In a short time she’s gained plenty of supporters who’ve taken notice of her talents as well. Among them are people whose opinions I trust, people who truly believe China has a choice other than war with Britannia.”

 

“Voicing an opinion to avoid war with Britannia would condemn China to self-destruction.” Wu lifted her head from her hand. She dug her thin fingers into her white comforter and cast a sidelong glare at Xiang. “You understood that yourself once, back when Chen was young. We steered him toward the military and surrounded him with generals and tacticians who trained him to be a warrior capable of bearing the immense weight of leading China and its people.”

 

“A country’s people cannot thrive on war alone, nor should we expect Chen to carry such a burden alone.” Xiang shook his head. “It is my thoughts that if they work together, Chen and Hui Ying can find the light in a world full of darkness, and lead China into an age of peace and prosperity the likes of which none have witnessed before.”

 

“You and your poetic words.” Wu smiled and chuckled under her breath.

 

“You liked them once.” Xiang sidled closer to Wu. She leaned into the crook of his arm, and Xiang blanketed her pale form with his billowing sleeves.

 

“We can’t back Hui Ying, not when the entire world expects Chen to receive our full support as he always has,” Wu whispered into the feathered ear of the phoenix winging across Xiang’s chest. “People like Major General Liu Xin and General Xinghe have placed their trust entirely in him, and have spent their careers encouraging others to follow suit for China’s greater good. Dividing our opinion now would legitimize a war over succession, and would only empower men like Roku who’d tear the country apart if it meant he could satisfy his own agenda.”

 

“Which is why I want Chen and Hui Ying to work together. In the past, central power was everything,” Xiang solemnly closed his eyes, remembering back to his children’s youth. How he poured all his knowledge into the obedient Chen, and reprimanded Hui Ying when she childishly preached her own mind. “But watching Hui Ying and how the people have come to praise her actions has opened my eyes to the reality that in this modern era it’s essential to share power, rather than for any one person to maintain total control.”

 

“Which is why you’ve entrusted them and that operative we sent to Vermillion City each with a portion of what we’ve discovered?” Wu raised an eyebrow and lifted her face at Xiang.

 

Xiang bobbed his head.

 

“This conference is a chance for Hui Ying and Chen to work together and rediscover each other’s talents. To find a new balance.” Xiang placed a hand over Wu’s which rested in her lap. “They’ve grown apart in recent years, as we all have. But if they can join hands and use what we’ve provided them to come to a resolution each is satisfied with, I’ll pass on my robes to Chen and provide them the final key without hesitation.”

 

“My only remaining worry is that Hui Ying will end up disgracing Chen.” The volume of Wu’s voice plummeted as if she meant to whisper so even the phoenix wouldn’t hear her words. “I accept some blame for the methods we used to keep her safe, but the way she’s… _attached_ herself to that nurse of hers is….” Wu’s expression twisted in an uncomfortable grimace.

 

“Such things aren’t unheard of, the sharing of peaches, the cutting of sleeves,” Xiang noted. When he first heard of the discovery from a stricken Wu, his own shock derived mostly from the novel realization such brotherly affection wasn’t exclusive to men. “If nothing else, it will be all the more reason for Hui Ying to appreciate the opportunities that come to her in the shade Chen casts wherein she can behave as she pleases. And no matter how well she does, Chen need never worry about his own heir’s right to succession.”

 

A thunderous rumble, followed by a sudden slight jolt, announced that the Royal Train was resuming its sprint to Vermillion City.

 

Not a moment later, the sliding door to Empress Wu’s private sanctuary opened.

 

Wu’s most trusted doctor, her cheeks a ruddy color from many a shed tear of joy, stood in the open doorway. She bowed her head and made her way over to a hand washing station on the far side of the room.

 

A thick white froth bubbled up to the doctor’s elbows while the guardsman assigned to Wu’s car stood just outside the door and made his report.

 

“I’ve passed the message to both Imperial Siblings informing them we’ll be arriving late to the conference.” He stood with his heels together, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. “I’ve been informed that the conference will begin at sundown, as was originally scheduled. Both Imperial Siblings pray for your safe and speedy arrival.”

 

* * *

 

**[Date: 06/04/1995 ATB, Time: 5:40 p.m.,  Hui Ying’s Apartments in the Royal Residence, Vermillion City, the Chinese Federation]**

 

Vermillion City.

 

Hui Ying’s eyes swept over the city from her high balcony, a tiny bump on the face of a shining gold-toned building. Ostentatiously constructed on a manmade island, a plaque-like buildup that rerouted the Yellow River’s flow around it, the structure defied logic for no other reason than to show its creators’ refusal to bend to the will of any other than its own.

 

It begged the question: How many of the city’s Britannian occupants knew the place by its former name, Luoyang?

 

How many knew the greatness of what once existed in this very spot around the Yellow River? How many observed the distinctly Britannian steel structures looming over the crystal-clear canals, and the concrete walls which rose on all sides as if to reaffirm the city’s distinctness from its surroundings and thought, “This is Chinese ingenuity at work!”? How many turned their noses away from the acrid smoke which frequently blotted out the rising sun, smoke which staunchly refused on windless days to vacate the homes of the east quarter poor who spent their days working in windowless factories for the Britannians living in the gentrified western areas with the politicians and Eunuchs, and thought, “This is the finest and most storied city in all of China!”?

 

Hui Ying observed how agonizingly slow the faint winds blowing from the west cleared the sky once the many factories shut down.

 

Smokeless skies were a rare occurrence in the bustling working districts. The shutdown which would persist for but a few short days in observance of a holiday called to celebrate Malcolm’s—or rather, Malcolm's representative, Charles zi Britannia’s—visit to this veritable utopia of the East. The sight of the soot-blackened rooftops and plain concrete walls of the eastern district soothed Hui Ying’s sensitive eyes after an exhausting day of being toured around the more sparkling districts like a foreigner in her own country.

 

“Vermillion City,” Hui Ying mouthed the name.Despite how the words insisted their nativity by the way they mimicked the inherent poeticness of her mother tongue, their taste was foreign in her mouth no different from the many so-called “Chinese” cuisines devised by Britannian chefs.

 

Even the very apartments Hui Ying was assigned to during her stay were an affront to her sensibilities. Stuffed with decor meant to evoke a tastefully Chinese design, her lavish room completely ignored the beauty of minimalism and feng shui. Its red upholstered wood and varnished bamboo furnishings smelled factory fresh, and the timeless depiction of cranes among water lilies machine-embossed on a golden folding screen could never match the subtle dignity of an honored heirloom and its patina. A scattering of Chinese characters punctuated a magnificent surface artistry which could deceive only those who didn’t know the truth of the utter nonsense woven by their conjoined use.

 

Vermillion City. A Britannian stronghold embedded like an as yet benign cancer quietly growing in what was, in the distant past, China’s very heart.

 

“Hopefully there will be no bodies in the street tomorrow morning,” Hui whispered. She silently thanked the buffoonish officials who heeded her advice to clear the sky for Charles’ visit. Certainly we wouldn’t want the Britannian Emperor’s representative to whiff the cocktail of noxious fumes on the nearly windless day.

 

A day and a half without smog. A day and a half without pay. It was a trade of one evil for another to the west district’s predominantly native Chinese poor. But Hui Ying trusted their ability to make the best of things and survive, just as this city’s people always had and always would.

 

A flock of twittering magpies rippled through the clear air. They flew due east, toward the distant green.

 

One bird darted off from the rest and neatly perched itself on the steel rails beside Hui Ying. The bird fluttered its metallic blue wings and bowed its body toward her as if thanking her for the fine afternoon.

 

“Did you enjoy the sun this afternoon?” Hui Ying propped her elbows on the railing and leaned into her hands. She shifted her gaze from the distant city to the bird, and muttered a quiet curse when her eyesight flickered and crossed.

 

The bird took wing after its flock, the lot of them apparently headed out of the city toward the world outside the stone walls’ confines.

 

“Princess?”

 

Rubbing her eyes, Hui Ying turned away from the city. She listened in the direction of the open balcony doors, through which came the meekly pleading, overtly feminine voice.

 

Leaving the balcony and its irksome view behind, Hui Ying made her way indoors.

 

Inside her stuffy and oppressive main apartment, Hui Ying easily found her attendant and personal nurse, Wei Ren.

 

Wei’s pleasant smile couldn’t hide the skittish apprehension in her catlike eyes. It impressed Hui Ying how well Wei held herself together outside of the Imperial Palace; the glass of almond milk barely rattled on the bamboo tray Wei gripped in her supple hands. Wei never did like traveling, much less venturing to such a disputed city near China’s border.

 

“I’m here, Wei.” A coquettish smile lifted the corners of Hui Ying’s rosy lips. She wafted through the spacious loft like an apparition draped in her billowing white, red, and  gold-embroidered silk robes, her knee-length silver hair wisping behind her like a spectral cloud.

 

“Allow me, Princess!” Wei spouted upon catching sight of Hui Ying. She sped over to an ornately carved rosewood table and set down the tray. Wei carefully pulled out a chair for Hui Ying so as not to mar the one fine thing in the room, an aged red and gold carpet retained since the days of Luoyang.

 

Hui Ying noticed the usual small cup of supplements along with her almond milk on the bamboo tray. Usually Wei would simply bring the supplements and milk, but today there was something extra today which necessitated the tray: three white steamed buns easily large enough to fill a grown man’s hands.

 

Hui Ying selected one of the plump, steamed stuffed buns. It’s fresh warmth quickly radiated deep into her palms while the delicious scent zinged her nostrils.

 

“Sweet-and-sour pork.” Hui Ying’s eyes sparkled. “My favorite!” Her gentle smile broadened, which put a sheepish grin on Wei’s face as well.

 

“I noticed you didn’t eat much at the noon meal,” Wei explained the unusual occurrence. “All this travel has my stomach tied up in knots as well...  so I made sweet-and-sour pork Jiangsu style.”

 

Hui Ying tilted her face up at Wei. She patted the armrest of the empty chair beside her. “Eat them with me?”

 

Wei, after a moment of feigned hesitation, gave a slight bow and settled into the chair.

 

Hui Ying alternated between tiny bites of stuffed bun and swallowing the multicolor supplements one at a time along with a sip of almond milk.

 

Wei took extreme care to layer a bright red cotton napkin on the fine silks draping her lap before selecting one of the handmade buns for herself. However, after taking just a single bite of the handmade bun, Wei started sniffling.

 

“I hope these discussions will be brief,” Wei sniveled through her nibble of sweet-and-sour pork. She swallowed the tiny mouthful and set down her steaming bun on another red cotton napkin. Wei blotted her eyes with the cuff of her aqua and amethyst ruqun, being certain to pick a spot no one would notice a small smear of dark eye makeup. “The Empire is so…”

 

“Claustrophobic?” Hui Ying finished for Wei. She set her empty glass beside the remaining two buns on the bamboo tray, and wiped her fingers on her napkin.

 

“Yes,” Wei meekly agreed. The silver comb cinching back Wei’s jet black hair flashed with her bouncing nod. A large white opal and several teardrop-sized gems dangling from the metal glittered like the shards of a shattered rainbow.

 

“It would be nice if we could come to a quick resolution with Britannia.” Hui Ying did her best to project an aura of reassuring positivity, but her doubts were too great to completely withhold.

 

“Everything touched by the Holy Britannian Empire is so daunting and grand,” Wei went on. “It’s all so rich and luxurious, yet I can’t bring myself to enjoy any of it. It lacks...”

 

“Authenticity?” Hui Ying finished for Wei yet again.

 

Wei nodded her agreement. “I feel so tense. It’s as though I don’t belong in a city I’m told again and again is mine.”

 

“The world believes Vermillion City to be ‘capital of the Orient,’” Hui Ying gestured to the room full of what may as well have been movie props around them. “Only those who look up from the map will realize the truth: this is Britannia. And to the east, that’s where the real China is.”

 

Hui Ying reached beneath the table, her nimble fingers easily finding Wei’s among the many folds of their silken sleeves.

 

“Let’s talk about China,” Hui Ying said. She inched to one side of her chair and rested her shoulder against Wei’s. “The real China, the one far from all this—”

 

A rapping at the door to Hui Ying’s apartments made the easily startled Wei leap from her chair. Alternating waves of green and blue silk rippled around Wei as she headed for the next room to answer the door.

 

“One moment,” Wei called. Hui Ying straightened her back against her chair and layered her hands over her lap.

A second later, Wei returned with another of Hui Ying’s attendants, Fei Dong.

 

Unlike the elegantly and traditionally attired Hui Ying and Wei, Fei prefered the more western look of a smartly tailored gray blazer and slacks. She preferred to keep her straight black hair tightly restrained in a glossy ponytail studded with gunmetal hairpins. Fei’s long stride was tense and precise like a cobra’s in the poise of someone always prepared to strike. The sheer makeup around Fei’s almond eyes trained her dark umber gaze into one as piercing and effective as any snake’s poison.

 

Unlike Wei, who Hui Ying came to know and trust over the course of years of relying on Wei as her closest confidante and dearest companion, Hui Ying still understood little about Fei. Hui Ying knew of Fei’s origins in Guangdong province and about the five years Fei spent in impeccable service to the Viscount of Nansha…. However, these were all things one could glean from any background report.

 

Fei only came on as Hui Ying’s attendant guard a few months ago when the Emperor and Empress made Hui Ying accepting her a condition of allowing Hui Ying to become a formal ambassador of China. Although in reality Hui Ying held little power, the ability to venture outside of palace walls allowed her to better understand the plight of the common people, a plight she felt was her personal mission to rectify alongside the current and future ruler of China.

 

“I’ve received correspondence that Her Majesty and His Excellency are currently enroute, however the Empress’ condition has forced them to make an unexpected stop in Zhurong Feng,” Fei reported, her hands clasped behind her back in a formal posture.

 

Despite her wish to be perceived in a dignified and fierce light, Fei’s Mandarin awkwardly accentuated itself in places where Hui Ying sensed Fei’s residual habit of slipping into her native Cantonese.

 

 _‘Like chickens talking to ducks,’_ as the ministers often joked, even while Fei stood clearly in earshot. As a result of not wanting to disgrace her mistress, Fei consigned herself to relying on the universality of body language rather than words when in mixed company. Seemingly overnight, Fei developed that piercing cobra’s gaze capable of communicating her often simple intentions to anyone at a glance, regardless whether they be a chicken or duck.

 

And if anyone ever second-guessed that cobra’s gaze…

 

It was on one of their first outings together when a commoner, dissatisfied with more than a few of the Emperor’s policies, attempted to take out his displeasure on Hui Ying. But, with a motion as effortless as the wave of a hand, Fei disarmed and disabled the attacker and earned herself Hui Ying’s respect, even if not yet her confidence and trust.

 

“I’ve also received confirmation that, despite the Emperor and Empress running late, the preliminary talks are to begin as previously scheduled.” Fei completed her report with a click of her glossy charcoal heels.

 

“Thank you for the update,” Hui Ying said. She pushed back her chair and stood without waiting for Wei’s assistance.

 

Hui Ying strode toward her excessively plush bed. Every time she looked at the deep vermillion bolts of cloth dangling from the trusses above the bed—a design choice more suited to the bridal bed—a shiver went up Hui Ying’s spine. She would certainly have the cloth taken down, with a note left for housekeeping in explanation concerning its inappropriateness for an official’s visit, before she went to sleep tonight.

 

Hui Ying lifted her arms, her crimson sleeves peeling back to reveal a thin gold elastic circling her delicate white wrist. It took several long moments of pulling her silvery hair through and around the resilient band before she finished tucking every last flyaway back in a neat bun.

 

Hui Ying grabbed a small leather briefcase from among the numerous plush throw pillows piling the gold and white comforter. She exited the room first with Wei, while Fei shut the door and trailed them in her usual, cautiously observing fashion.

 

The glistening black lenses of cameras peered down from the walls, a new mechanical eye training its gaze on them with every ten feet. Motion sensors rotated the cameras to create a flawless record of the trio’s stroll. The trio made their way silently through the grand halls which, unlike the room Hui Ying was assigned, were unabashedly Britannian with their enormous sheets of polished mauve quartz paneling the walls and the poured concrete floors that shone with a bronze-gold gleam.

 

But even more imposing than the polished walls and curious cameras, were the Britannian soldiers flanking the halls so that at least a dozen were always within sight. Each held at the ready a compact automatic gun which, while they weren’t all that powerful, served just as well as a reminder of how Britannia advanced at the forefront of the world’s great military powers.

 

 _‘Motorized guns, with Sakuradite guiding rails… guns with no need for gunpowder.’_ Hui Ying narrowed her eyes at the guns. _‘Railguns.’_ She wondered how many were made using her own country’s exported Sakuradite. _‘Yet the established agreements won’t allow the Chinese people to even use sakuradite as a energy source and share what we’ve learned with the world... not openly.’_

 

Hui Ying clenched her fists beneath her fluttering white sleeves. The utter ridiculousness of such a “deal” when the Chinese possessed the largest population in the world was one of the very things Hui Ying was certainly going to have addressed before the conference concluded.

 

Hui Ying glanced to one side. She noticed Wei gradually slip two steps behind her, cowering beneath the oppressive gazes of the cameras and soldiers with her eyes glued at a level no higher than the soldiers’ boots.

 

Hui Ying hobbled a bit, feigning a sudden weakness.

 

“Wei, I’m feeling a bit faint,” Hui Ying said. She pressed a hand to her left temple.

 

In an instant, Wei snapped out of her nervous stupor. She offered her arm to Hui Ying, too consumed with by the task at hand to be nervous about the soldiers anymore.

 

Fei quickly appeared beside them, her expression and posture broadcasting a clear intent to relieve Hui Ying of her neither heavy, nor light briefcase.

 

Hui Ying hesitated at the idea of handing over such an important collection of documents and classified data, even to Fei. Despite how Hui Ying respected Fei’s strength—even asking her for simple lessons in self-defense—and found her more than capable with the task of being Hui Ying’s go-between organizing things with her supporters abroad, something about Fei’s eagerness at times still put Hui Ying on edge.

 

Despite her hesitancy, Hui Ying handed over the briefcase.

 

If she were going to portray herself as a meek, frail thing, better to do so without reservation.

 

Hui Ying gripped Wei’s arm as though Wei were the only thing keeping her upright. Within minutes, the trio arrived at the end of the hall where an elevator waited for them.

 

A robust soldier even heavier armed than those lining the hallways showed no sign of moving from his position before the elevator.

 

“Identification,” he bellowed at the three.

 

 _‘So loud,’_ Hui Ying didn’t need to feign a pained wince. _‘Certainly you know our faces by now, you Britannian lapdog. You escorted us to our apartments not three hours ago, after that blasted tour.’_

 

Rather than voice her complaints, Hui Ying released Wei’s arm and slipped her fingers between the gold and red layers of her sash. She pinched a laminated identification card between her fingers, but in the process of pulling it out, caught her thumb on the delicate folds of the red and gold silk ribbons, arranged to form a magnificent flower, atop her stomach.

 

She dropped the card an inch from the soldier’s hand, and it fell to the floor.

 

“Terribly sorry,” Hui Ying apologized. She squinted intently at the soldier.

 

The Britannian man’s unattractive face turned even uglier with his scowl. He bent over—rather awkwardly, thanks to his excessive armaments and a belly that seemed to have grown since he last had his uniform fitted—and picked up the card, barely giving it a glance before he gruffly handed it back to Hui Ying.

 

He stepped aside with an animal grunt, and pressed the button for the glass elevator doors to part.

 

Hui Ying tucked away her ID card and again obliged Wei for her arm. The two boarded the circular elevator first, followed by Fei whose standard callous glare at the soldier Hui Ying was grateful for in times like these.

 

The loud sound of suction outside the sealed elevator doors lifted glass encapsulating the three women. During the elevator’s short climb, Hui Ying leaned toward Wei. She made certain it would appear from Fei’s vantage point she was only leaning on Wei for support when Hui Ying whispered into Wei’s ear:

 

“Don’t worry about a thing. No matter what happens, I’ll never let anything happen to you.” Hui Ying pressed her face closer to Wei’s. Her lips briefly brushed Wei’s powdered cheek, thankfully neither taking away any of Wei’s makeup nor leaving a smudge of Hui’s lipstick behind.

 

 

* * *

 

**[Date: 06/04/1995 ATB, Time: 5:40 pm, Royal Residence, Vermillion City, China]**

 

The echo of heavy boots resounded down the heavily guarded corridor. Soldiers formally dressed in the Holy Britannian Empire’s colors stood at ten foot intervals, each armed with sakuradite-enhanced automatic guns. They straightened their postures when Sir Bismarck Waldstein walked past on his way to the chamber where the preliminary talks were scheduled to take place.

 

_‘I’ve yet to get completely used to this.’_

 

Bismarck—still just a green lad of 22 when he received his appointment by the great Emperor Malcom Di Britannia—practically strutted through the halls on his long legs, his ostentatious aqua blue cloak swirling behind him like a sunlit waterfall. His moussed locks framed his face with a light twirl of brown, thick, dark eyebrows accentuating his blank expression in a way that made him appear just a bit devilish despite all his best efforts to the contrary.

 

While it irked him somewhat, Bismarck’s powerful and imposing presence was perfectly suited to a man of his position as Knight of Five, one of Britannia’s twelve highest ranked Knights.

 

Upon sighting the armed guardsman stationed at the far end of the the twisting corridor, Bismarck dutifully reached into the front pocket of his white suit. Before he could produce his identification, however, the guard stepped aside and pressed a button, opening the glass door.

 

Before Bismarck could speak up about the guard’s obviously lacking security training, the guard’s reason for why he so easily letting Bismarck through was made clear.

 

“Best of luck with the talks, Sir Knight of Five,” the guard said with a brief salute.

 

Bismarck boarded the elevator with little more than a nod.

 

Of course Bismarck wouldn’t be asked to provide identification by one of his own people. He was one of the Britannian VIPs, a veritable superstar to those in the military and noble ranks alike.

 

Most would have been thrilled being chosen at Bismarck’s young age to enjoy the privilege and power extended from the Emperor to his Twelve Knights of The Round. Every young man who ever had the honour of learning the way of knighthood and the sword dreamed to one day don a bright cloak and stand toe-to-toe with the likes of Lancelot from King Arthur’s time. Not a noble or heroic-minded youth existed who didn’t fantasize of riding in on a white horse, wielding a shield and brandishing a sword in defense of those who could not defend themselves in the name of king and country.

 

But…

 

Bismarck’s black gloves let out a series of muffled squeals from between his tightening fingers.

 

To dream of such things was for young men and nobles who believed in knightly chivalry and honor. It was reserved only for those who believed _Noblesse Oblige_ hadn’t been wrung from the political sphere long ago with the usurous hands of corruption.

 

Bismarck had never been one of these naive young dreamers. He knew even before that mad king Malcolm laid his sword to Bismarck’s shoulder—just a momentary slip away from lopping off the youth’s head—there was no chivalry in lifting a sword in the name of his ignoble ruler.

 

For what honor was there in serving an Emperor who displayed the decapitated heads of his doubters upon pikes which always dripped with fresh blood? What honor was there in serving an Emperor who would have even one of his most highly regarded aides don a jester’s hat for his own amusement before the royal court? And what honor was it to serve an Emperor who could point to his most devout follower, accuse him of some laughable crime or misdeed, and end both his and the lives of everyone he knows with the wag of a finger?

 

How many more first Tuesdays of the month would go by wherein the Emperor would “invite” those of his highest noble houses to come dance upon the palace ballroom’s pockmarked and bullet holed floor? Certainly the rival noble houses of Bruckner and Bismarck’s own Waldstein’s were not alone in suffering the indignity of watching their eldest sons put their best foot forward to dance for the amusement of their ruler. For Malcolm di Britannia was a ruler who found particular enjoyment in pairing men whose filial ties would not allow either to accept anything but the leading role, condemning their dance to an awkward placement of feet that staggered on until the chambers of Malcolm’s favorite pistol were emptied.

 

Recent generations of the nobility whose parents did not have to endure such treatment in their youth regularly dissolved their inherited bonds of hatred. They chose instead to forge new pacts in a newfound understanding that to the current Emperor the proud and respected nobility of Britannia, the greatest in the world, may as well be rats mucking through the streets.

 

What benevolence should’ve been extended to Bismarck and his family at his historic knighthood was nothing but the embodiment of Malcolm’s ongoing spite.

 

Malcolm stole the Waldstein’s prized heir at the ripe young age of 22 in retaliation for his family’s transgressions in attempting to lift themselves into a higher station by seeking a match with one of the Emperor’s daughters, and for openly questioning the way Malcolm handled the Empire’s economic affairs.

 

As Knight of Five, Sir Bismarck Waldstein received in exchange for everything the position had to offer—money, political power, fame, glory—the complete and utter dissolution of Bismarck Waldstein’s entire existence.

 

Never again could he share a table with his family and carelessly assassinate the Emperor’s character without suffering accusations of treason. For what use was a weapon which might one day turn against its possessor? Never again could Bismarck entertain the ideas of courtship, of inheriting the family property and raising an heir as he’d had drilled into him would be his duty and privilege as eldest son.

 

While Sir Bismarck Waldstein’s name would be regarded well in history books, it would only be in the form of a footnote to how well he fulfilled his duties as Knight of Five, a mere toy and possession of Emperor Malcom di Britannia. Bismarck’s worth was reduced to his ability with sword, lance, and spear, with utter disregard to the martial art of the shield which so embodied the original spirit of chivalry.

 

The last Knights of the Round to waste effort on the art of the shield lived over a century ago before he perished in 1877. Francesco Lombardi, a 95-year-old Knight at the time of his death, grew brittle and frail until he could no longer bear the weight of his armaments. The then Empress Claire Li Britannia—caught up in a coup that would topple her reign—watched her most beloved Knight of the Round Sir Renya Kururugi lose an arm to then Chancellor Lorenzo il Soresi’s knight of honor. The old Knight Sir Francesco, the last of Claire’s Knights, had no choice but to take up arms in her defense. He collapsed in his chainmail and helplessly rocked like a turtle, his shield crushing him beneath its weight while Claire was escorted to Sir Renya’s beheading.

 

Subsequent Emperors and Empresses learned from the mistake that was Francesco Lombardi. Better to have a Knight die young and in valiant service, to have him gloriously shatter under the enemy’s blows as an inexperienced blade, than risk a weapon anointed with a tenured position to dull.

 

But if that was to be Bismarck’s fate, he did not completely mind the idea of his death being in service to one of the Emperor’s “spares,” Prince Charles zi Britannia.

 

Charles was private, independent, and like Bismarck, didn’t care one lick for Malcolm. It came as a surprise to Bismarck, to hear Charles so openly speak his distaste, that he almost thought it a ploy to out him. But Charles and Malcolm shared little more than what trace blood they had together as uncle and nephew, their views and thoughts being of entirely separate minds. And standing beside Charles also gave Bismarck an extra advantage: access to the Emperor’s innermost circle and the royal family itself.

 

The Emperor’s chuckling and fawning inner circle were both the most privileged and the most endangered caste. To hear their whispers was to hear the ravings of a madman translated into understandable human tongue. But by listening to their whispers it was possible to understand exactly where things stood in the Emperor’s mind, where he would likely strike next, and where Bismarck needed to be in order to always ensure he was out of the Emperor’s central line of fire.

 

_‘Knight of Eight Sir Bronn Davenport’s head left by Malcolm's favoured Knight, Sir Hugh Gottwald and his unique grip serves as a reminder of that.’_

 

Thus, just like in the ballroom with the squat and arhythmic Theodore Bruckner, Bismarck needed to be sure to always place his foot just right. He needed to anticipate and dodge Malcolm’s bumbling moves. He worked tirelessly to present himself as faultless in the carrying out of his _Oaths to the Throne,_ and to do so in a way which allowed him to retain what little honor and virtue remained to him as a man in this world.

 

_‘If I could raise a sword in defense of someone, I wouldn’t mind doing it for a man like Charles.’_

 

And with that thought—that perhaps as a Knight there was something Bismarck could do that wouldn’t have him wish each day to be cut down and released from such a purposeless and honorless life—Bismarck relaxed his fists.

 

All these thoughts barraged Bismarck’s mind while the elevator slowly made its way up to the towering Royal Residence’s apex. The glass elevator sped skyward within a tube of white steel, propelled by glowing sakuradite rails and powerful blasts of air in a way similar to how a bullet shot through the barrel of the Empire’s newest guns. Eventually the ascent slowed, and the glass chamber came to a stop at its final destination.

 

Piercing the sky at 2,117 feet, far above the stately manors and concrete apartment complexes—the Spearpoint loomed. It was a grand lookout positioned at the tip of the prize jewel of the orient, Vermillion City’s Royal Residence. While not the official name, Sir Bismarck Waldstein considered the nickname given to it by Vermillion City’s people, referring to the towering Royal Residence as the “Spearpoint of Britannia at China’s throat,” to be quite fitting.

 

The four pyramidal walls were made up of almost entirely tempered and reinforced triple-pane glass, and were connected by a weblike lattice of brass-gilt framework. The corners converged 60 feet above the center of the spacious room which, as of this moment, was lit solely by the sun falling to the west after what had been a brilliant and cloudless day.

 

Bismarck screwed on his trademark smirk and stepped out of the once vacuum-sealed chamber. The throngs of Britannian nobles and Chinese officials invited up from the city to sit in on the talks were quick to take notice of him, if for no other reason than due to Bismarck’s towering frame which gave him a veritable bird’s eye view of his surroundings. He took great care not to let his eyes linger unbecomingly on the plunging necklines of the ladies’ gowns, and firmly shook hands with the sometimes nervous, oftentime awed gentlemen who approached him.

 

Time passed in a blur of socializing until Bismarck picked out from the murmurs of those around him a pair of familiar voices. Voices belonging to members of what was to be his new family, the other Knights of the Round.

 

“... that Bartley Aspirus fellow got off too lightly after how his family made such a scene. The only reason his head is still attached is because Arthur himself vouched for him.” A tall stick of a woman with bob-cut auburn hair grumped and grumbled to a burly and slow-looking man standing opposite her. The woman wore a white suit the mirror image of Bismarck’s, the only difference to their attire being the ruddy brown cape draped from her thin shoulders.

 

“Do you mean to say you question the Emperor’s judgment,” inquired the deep voiced man standing opposite the woman. A stout and brawny fellow with the appearance of someone who could beat a bear at arm wrestling, the man’s fitted white suit bulged with the excess of his muscles somehow stuffed beneath his magenta cape.

 

“Of course I support the Emperor just as my family always has. However,” the woman motioned to a young man with foppish blonde hair standing a few paces behind her. He handed her a crystal tumbler of water; the celebratory wine would be saved for once the talks were completed. The woman took a sip from the glass before continuing. “Demanding compensation for one of their children giving his life in service to those who enabled his family to cling to the vestiges of their nobility… as a fellow true noble, doesn’t it make your blood boil?” The woman gesticulated wildly in her barely-restrained rage. Water to leapt from her cup and splashed onto her cape.

 

The man opposite the enraged woman cracked a grin. He reached toward a lad balancing a silver tray of hors d'oeuvre in one hand, the lad’s wild mop of grey hair barely kept back in a ponytail by a magenta bow. The bearish man selected a small scone daubed with creme from among the many colorful options. Before he could partake of the miniaturized delight, however, his eyes met with Bismarck’s and the man’s amused expression took on a sort of impish delight.

 

“Welcome to the party, Sir Knight of Five,” the gruff man bellowed.

 

Sir Mandon Oakheart, a Britannian nobleman raised abroad in one of the Empire’s many colonized areas. The bear of a man earned his seat as Knight of Six through a mix of his family’s long history of resolute nationalism along with his personal fame, a renown stemming from actions he took to root out resistance and stomp out an Area uprising in the Philippines with pure brute force. As one of only a handful of Knights of the Round invited to attend the conference, his presence was hardly coincidental: he was a living reminder of where the Empire stood concerning their policies with foreigners.

 

“So the Knight of Five has decided to grace us with his presence?” The woman sneered over her shoulder at Bismarck. Her aqua eyes which would have been attractive on any other woman were no different from daggers in the way she wielded them.

 

Eleanor Soresi, a noblewoman who radiated with all the charm of her domineering Britannian heritage and a bloodline with more than its fair share of overlaps with the Britannian Royal Family. Knight of Two and the only current female Knight of the Rounds, she left her fiancé from an arranged marriage at the altar, choosing instead to enlist in the military where she skyrocketed through the ranks. She was a woman known as much for her shrewdness of mind as for the sharpness of her blade— which she readily brandished with or without the Emperor’s command—which made her cape the color of dry blood a perfect match for a woman of such a devastating temper as hers.

 

“How are your new pages working out? Andrea Farnese and Michele Manfredi, if I’m not mistaken?” Bismarck inquired, hoping to derail the conversation concerning Malcolm’s most recent brutalizing of his own people.

 

The two lads shifted in their polished black shoes, breaking out in a cold sweat in their slightly off-white suits when the conversation suddenly focused on them.

 

Eleanor rolled her eyes at her admittedly meek-looking page, Andrea Farnese. An honorarily appointed knight-in-training from a respected Euro Britannian family granted a noble rank only a handful of generations ago, he’d lasted the longest so far out of all Eleanor’s pages. Her gesture was as close to acquiescence as Eleanor could likely manage, and which the lad readily mirrored in his own expression when she wasn’t looking.

 

“Michele was quite excited when he heard we were to tour Vermillion City, weren’t you?” Mandon good-naturedly slapped the flush-faced lad between his shoulderblades.

 

“Yes, Sir Oakheart. I’ve always dreamt of visiting the orient.” Michele boldly showed his excitement with his beaming grin. “The people and their way of life here is so different from the fatherland—”

 

“Well, better get used to things quick, son!” Mandon slapped Michele’s back repeatedly, apparently thoroughly entertained with his page’s excitement. “‘cause you’ll be seeing chinks aplenty during your training!”

 

Mandon’s booming laugh soared high above the moderate din of the crowd. Bismarck’s eye wandered, momentarily catching on the fierce expression of a Chinese official on the far side of the room clearly glaring into the back of Mandon’s skull.

 

“This will be a good sort of practice for you as well, Andrea. There’s not much difference between the people in China and India,” Eleanor said. She gestured to the buffet table overflowing with fine food and drink which, while some looked Chinese-inspired, were entirely geared toward satiating the Britannian tongue. “Enjoy the food while you can, since we won’t have much occasion to dine so well once we reach the front lines.”

 

“Thank you, Lady Soresi,” Andrea said, his young voice and posture exuding a saintly demeanor most boys didn’t gain until they become wizened men.

 

“Which reminds me,” Eleanor added. She swished the ice at the bottom of her glass in circles, the crystal making light _tink-tink-tink_ noises like a muffled bell. “Where might your charge be, Bismarck?”

 

“On our way out Charles received a call from one of his consorts’ doctors. He asked that I come ahead of him,” Bismarck explained in a hushed tone. Even if Charles wasn’t in line for the throne, there were still plenty of nobles here at the edge of the Empire eager for any sort of gossip from the fatherland.

 

As if on cue, tension rippled through the room. Britannians in rank from nobles to servants, as well as a vast majority of the Chinese attendees, fell to their knees. Even the Knights of Six and Two and their pages got on one knee, their faces oriented toward the west.

 

Bismarck turned, and saw the room suddenly bathed in the bloodied glow that so often accompanied the early sunset.

 

Standing before the western glass elevator was Charles zi Britannia. The towering man stood above all in his subdued double-breasted military-style uniform, his clothing decorated only with a curious branched pattern at the base of his neck which evoked the image of something similar to a golden bird spreading its wings.

 

The sun cast its halo from behind Charles as if anointing the man with its favor in spite of his simplified regalia. The harsh light made both Charles’ mauve cape and the man’s shoulders overflowing with his golden hair glitter and shine. He withstood the burning sun’s rays like a worldly incarnation of a raging sun god who’d remade the world in his vermillion image after passing judgment on those whose bodies were now piled at Charles’ feet.

 

As representative of the Holy Britannian Empire at the talks, of course Charles would receive a welcome fit for the Emperor. Today, and for the duration of the talks, any not to show proper respect to the Emperor’s nephew would be treated no different from if they’d spat in the very face of Malcolm di Britannia himself—an action no one who wanted to live through the night would willingly commit.

 

Yet, while most royals and nobles would give their very souls for a momentary taste of the absolute power of the Emperor of Britannia, Charles stood with the same deep frown on his face as always, preferring the pretense of obliviousness to the state of the world and the actions of those around him rather than allow himself to bask in their misappropriated reverly.

 

_‘It’s because they don’t do this in respect of him. They do it in respect for Malcolm.’_

 

By the time Bismarck raised his eyes, he saw Charles already in conversation with another nobleman, a stately man whose balding head seemed to be progressing in inverse to the lengthening of his uniquely styled beard and moustache. While the man’s flowing robes displayed colors similar to those of Britannia’s flag, their design and the modified golden fleur-de-lis emblazoned on his chest were of a more Euro Britannian style.

 

 _‘So he’d be Sir Raymond du Saint-Gilles then. And his page would be….”_ Bismarck adjusted his gaze to the rather scrappy youth with wild eyebrows and a wolfish scruff of brown hair standing beside the broad-nosed Sir Raymond. Unlike the the Knight of the Rounds’ more broken-in pages, the obviously inexperienced, or just energetic, lad shifted back and forth in his polished boots like he might leap out of them any moment.

 

Bismarck recalled the attendee roster of faces and names he memorized in preparation for the conference, and the name of the lad—surprisingly large and muscular for a boy of barely 15— jumped to the forefront of his mind: Gaudefroy Du Villon.

 

While the boy wasn’t exactly Knight of the Rounds material, it was still a great honor to become page of an accomplished Knighted Britannian noble like Sir Raymond du Saint-Gilles. He was a man whose military accomplishments as a General precisely balanced the voracious Britannian appetite for conquest with a consideration for civilians that made him an excellent elected representative of Euro Britannia.

 

“Excuse me sir, pardon me madam.” Bismarck wove his way through the arising crowd of nobles with the same effortless elegance he’d been taught during his own time as one among their ranks, and quickly made his way to join Charles.

 

Conversations among the Britannians, quick to recover from the momentary pause, ranged the entire gambit, exemplifying their voracious appetite for gossip and news.

 

"… heard Princess Cornelia got herself into another fight…"  
  
"… the Commons sorry Senate will try to fight this amendment…"   
  
"… heard that drunkard Reuben Ashford is preparing another prototype. His site in San Diego, you know, the secret one…"   
  
"… on how things go with China, we stand for our companies stock to rise dramatically. Trade wars are always a bing for us…"   
  
"… that Loveface fellow is starting trouble among the thirteen families again. You’d think he would have learnt his lesson after his son got kidnapped…"   
  
"… did you hear about Sir Wallis? Supposedly he found his wife in bed with another woman!"   
  
"… Gods pray we leave this back sweller sooner or later. I can’t stand to deal with these slant-eyes …"   
  
"… do the blacks want? Every time Dame Ernst goes on another of her rants it makes me want to vomit my lunch…"

 

Bismarck paid little attention to the passing conversations, most of which were news to him, before he picked up on a voice matching the flap of Sir Raymond’s cracked lips.

 

“... full support of Euro Britannia, with nothing to worry about,” Bismarck only caught the tail end of Sir Raymond’s conversation with a rather preoccupied and disinterested-looking Charles. Raymond glanced at Bismarck. “And you must be Sir Bismarck Waldstein, Britannia’s new Knight of Five.” The old general appraised Bismarck with a single glance. “It’s not often a man so young becomes a Knight of the Rounds. You’d do well to learn from his example, Gaudefroy.”

 

“Yes sir,” Gaudefroy grumbled, his gaze flickering almost shyly despite his untamed appearance.

 

“No need to stop your conversation on my account.” Bismarck gestured for Raymond to continue.

 

“Not at all.” Raymond stroked his steadily graying beard. “We were just letting the Emperor know he has Euro Britannia’s full support in these negotiations with the Chinese.” He directed a glance toward the twitchy boy beside him, his cool gaze bringing to an instant halt the lad’s nonstop movement.

 

Charles hardly waited for Raymond and his page to recede into the sea of nobles before he trained his sunken lavender gaze on Bismarck.

 

“Have the Chinese representatives made an appearance yet,” Charles inquired in a gruff tone.

 

“Not yet.” Bismarck lifted his shoulders. “With the Emperor and Empress running late, they’ve been holding back. Now that it’s been confirmed they won’t arrive until later tonight, the only ones on the Chinese side during the preliminary talks will be their children, heir apparent Chen Qing and a daughter Hui Ying Qing,” Bismarck repeated the latest updates.

 

However, Charles’ expression remained unchanged at what most would consider quite troublesome news. His was the visage of a man who, after years of relentless stress and exhaustion, had the image of fatigue darkly etched onto his otherwise still young face in the form of deep lines and a permanently dissatisfied frown.

 

Bismarck glanced around and, upon perceiving the noteworthy berth the nobles seemed to give the Emperor’s stand-in, stepped closer to Charles. He leaned closer to the man’s ear, keeping his volume as low as possible when Bismarck spoke. “I recognize it may not be my place to ask, however... how is Lady Gabrielle’s condition?”

 

“She will recover from the loss,” Charles replied in the same curt tone as always. His gaze lingered, unmoving over the crowd of nobles as he observed them all no differently from how a statue might observe a crowded park.

 

“You have my condolences,” Bismarck mumbled. One of his younger sisters lost a child to similar complications, in spite of the advanced medicine available to Britannians. It was strange to think even Royals and their families were not immune to such losses. “If you ever find yourself in need of an ear to vent your troubles, I’d be happy to provide one.”

 

“I may take you up on that offer one day.” A hint of a smile seemed to curl the corner of Charles’ lips, but disappeared in the blink of an eye.

 

Rather than linger on about the subject, Charles trudged forth into the crowded room. The sea of nobles parted around Charles like calm waters cut through by a slow-moving barge’s prow, making it remarkably easy for a man like Bismark—long used to having at least some trouble moving through dense crowds—to follow after him.

 

Within moments they arrived at the buffet table. Charles gazed upon the many delicacies—from the the perfectly ripened strawberries beside a dark chocolate fountain, picture-perfect mille crepes, tea cakes and cookies, to fluffy white sandwiches generously stuffed with various cured meats and even tender roast lamb alongside plump dumplings, sauces, and chinese dishes Bismarck knew nothing about—with the steely eye of a man who could gaze upon perfection itself and still remain unmoved.

 

Certainly it wasn’t as if Charles would partake of any food or drink during the talks, at least none other than what was served to him under the strictest of guard and precaution. It was yet another thing both men would have to deal with while performing as Emperor Malcolm and the Knight of One’s stand-ins, yet another irksome fact to Bismarck and a major source of the Knight of Two’s ire toward the only recently knighted Bismarck.

 

Bismarck’s eyes glued to the eastern glass elevator, the only one of the four in the room never to deliver a new face since his arrival. Only the Chinese Royal’s official representatives at the talks had yet to make their appearance, while the last of the talks’ expected attendees who lived in the city were steadily delivered by an elevator to the north. Servants in black and white uniforms brought even more food and drink from a larger and more utilitarian-styled steel elevator in the south, where a collection of press and television broadcasters also set up their stations in the zone designated for their use.

 

It wasn’t long before Bismarck’s diligent watch bore fruit.

 

The rosy magenta glow of sakuradite appeared in the east elevator’s charged railings, activating for the first time since Bismarck’s arrival. Seconds later, a trio of women arose within the glass tube.

 

Once the elevator doors opened, first to exit was a woman in a fitted grey suit and slacks who, along with Eleanor, was one of only two women wearing pants in a room otherwise bursting at the seams with frilly designer dresses and ruffled skirts. What stood out to Bismarck most, however, was the brown briefcase pressed to the woman’s hip.

 

Bismarck quickly compared the woman’s face to his memory of the short Chinese registrar.

 

Her piercing gaze, made all the more stunning by the thick lines of makeup around her eyes, instantly brought to mind one of representative Hui Ying’s people: a woman by the name of Fei Dong who was to serve as Hui Ying’s sole guard.

 

Fei scanned the room before glancing back at the elevator, at which time emerged a pair of women in colorful and traditional-styled Chinese attire.

 

One of the two was the quintessential example of what Bismarck imagined when he conjured up thoughts of Chinese courtesans. Her dark hair was held neatly back from her pale face with a bejeweled hair comb, the fresh green and sky blue colors of her flowing robes further accentuating her charm. She was a lovely lady who, although Bismarck was not the type to wantonly search for someone to warm his bed even before his days of becoming a Knight, Bismarck felt it was a shame she was but a mere nurse, Wei Ren.

 

It was hanging off Wei’s arm where Bismarck found the woman he was most intrigued to see tonight. He caught sight of her earlier in the day beneath a snowy parasol—and how could one not have their eye drawn to such an unusual and rare image?—but only from a distance while he and Charles were on their own tour of the city separate from her group.

 

Hui Ying Qing, like Charles in that she was but a distant runner-up to inheriting her country’s throne, clung to the arm of her nurse as though she might faint at any moment under the intense sunset rays. Her pale pink skin glowed hot, and her ghostly white hair absorbed the ruddy color without resistance. The vermillion of her silk robes tripled in intensity until the woman looked like she might well be the living embodiment of white hot flame: the sort beautiful from a distance, but liable to devour any who might be drawn too close by its ephemeral light.

 

“Hui Ying has—” Bismarck began, but stopped short when he noticed Charles already strolling over to the trio.

 

Bypassing the circle of tables arranged in the center of the room—each with their own computer module complete with connections and readers capable of extracting data from a wide variety of storage chips, discs, sticks, and other media vying for supremacy in a rapidly technologizing world—oriented around a large hologram projector, Bismarck couldn’t help relaxing a bit in the relatively sparsely packed eastern half of the great hall. It was here where the majority of the Chinese diplomats chose to quietly murmur amongst themselves in their foreign tongue separate from the chatty Britannians who just as naturally congregated on the western side.

 

“Princess,” Charles was first to call out in greeting to the wilted Chinese representative.

 

Hui Ying craned her glistening magenta eyes toward Charles.

 

Her eyes, brilliant and sparkling, contained a relentless spirit despite the apparent yielding of her fragile frame. Recognizing it was Charles who called out to her, Hui Ying released her nurse’s arm and straightened her posture before she lowered herself in an elegant return greeting.

 

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting with you, Grand Duke Charles zi Britannia,” Hui Ying said. Her quick and nasally accent, cajoled into a Britannian tongue, sounded textbook-perfect with just a hint of foreign flavor.

 

Good, Hui Ying’s file was no exaggeration. Given most Britannians never bothered learning any supplemental languages other than Latin or French, it would be convenient for the talks if most of the Chinese side spoke English as clearly as Hui Ying.

 

While Charles of course wouldn’t return Hui Ying’s bow—for neither Britannia’s Emperor nor his stand-in lowered himself to anyone, not even a god—Charles reached for the Chinese Princess’ sleeve. He located her hand among the folds of fabric and enveloped her fingers in his own begloved palms. Raising her hand to his lips, Charles placed a delicate kiss on her fair knuckles.

 

An intense flash of revulsion flared in Hui Ying’s emberlike eyes. It was a look only Bismarck was in a position to observe before she expertly regained control of her faculties and tucked the emotion neatly away beneath a mild expression.

 

Charles released Hui Ying’s hand, and her pale fingers retreated beneath her layered sleeves.

 

Bismarck stood at attention just behind Charles, his arms clasped in either hand behind his back. Looking at Hui Ying, Bismarck could think only one thing: _‘Try as she may to hide it… this Princess is no meek garden flower.’_

 

“I understand you’ve been quite busy, touring around the city with hardly any rest between your travels and these preliminary talks,” Charles’ voice rumbled like that of a purring cat. He clasped his hands over his waist. “I imagine such things are quite difficult for someone with your... condition.”

 

“Thank you for your concern Charles,” Hui Ying responded. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her pale eyelashes sparkling like ruby threads in the burning sunlight. “My entourage and I have appreciated the opportunity to spend a day walking among our people. It interests us to see how they get along with the Britannians who’ve come to reside here since your forefathers’ reign.” She raised a sleeved hand and covered her chin. Her pale pink lips curled into a doll-like and coquettish grin. “It’s fascinating to see how, despite our over four thousand years of history here, it’s taken only a handful of generations and a single large-scale disaster nearly wiping the city off the map for our culture to be so thoroughly appropriated to suit Britannia’s tastes.”

 

Bismarck opened his mouth to interject: it was common knowledge in his family that the predecessor to Vermillion City was all but annihilated over 100 years ago when the banks of the Yellow River broke over. It was a large scale disaster that resulted in an estimated million Chinese losing their lives, while millions more went without shelter, food, or ways to make their livelihoods in the ruined land.

 

China had its hands full dealing with the disaster in several areas, along with the trouble in India and the Arrow Wars, which only further exacerbated the problems on all sides. With so much on their plate already, it was only thanks to the compassionate actions of the Britannian Duke Armellio Waldstein, Bismarck’s own great-great-granduncle that Vermillion City rose up from the bottom of the Yellow River and rebounded to become the veritable mecca it was today.

 

Armellio performed such a venerable act in testament to his beloved Chinese wife Lin Pin Yang, whose family was from the city. He relentlessly petitioned the Crown for aid, the Jewel of the Orient becoming a monument to their romance that inspired many a tale of fantasy in Britannian court. The tale of their love was just as venerated by the Chinese who, upon hearing Bismarck’s last name and understanding Charles’ connection to the Crown, bowed to both men in honor of what their families did for Vermillion City.

 

But Bismarck held his tongue. As a Knight of the Round and Charles’ guard, he was in no position to bring up these facts unprompted during Charles’ and Hui Ying’s conversation.

 

“I hear your discontent, Hui Ying. I only wish I could better understand.” The corners of Charles’ frown turned up in what might have contrived an attempt at a reassuring and empathetic smirk. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, mostly from those who like to compare my homeland to a ‘malignant cancer fast spreading the globe and robbing the world’s weaker and less influential countries of their vitality.’”

 

Hui Ying’s pale brows knit between her eyes. Her pearly teeth bit into her lower lip before she raised her hand the final inch necessary to cover her mouth.

 

“Certainly I don’t mean to discredit the importance of China’s participation in these talks. Ah, but by participation, I mean to say that we’re equal participants, China and Britannia….” Charles’ clasped hands fretted over his stomach before they separated and disappeared beneath his mauve cape where his nervousness wouldn’t be perceived. He glanced around the room and, leaning closer to Hui Ying, spoke in a particularly hushed tone, “I apologize… it’s difficult, maintaining the position of and speaking for Emperor Malcolm whose views don’t completely align with my own.”

 

“He certainly does seem like a difficult man,” Hui Ying’s suspicious expression relaxed somewhat, but the rest of her body remained stiffly on edge.

 

“Indeed he is,” Charles gruffly chuckled. “I assure you I do agree that China hasn’t been treated fairly. I hope we can come to an agreement both sides will find satisfactory, both for your sake and my own.” Charles’ put-on attempt at a grin evaporated, his worn-out expression returning in earnest. “Perhaps, if you would be so inclined, we might meet in the courtyard and find something more we can discuss before tomorrow’s talks begin in earnest?”

 

“If you seek a conversation with someone whose position is more than that of a lowly throwaway diplomat such as myself, I’d advise you to speak with my brother Chen once he arrives. He is heir to the Emperor’s throne, after all.” Hui Ying beckoned, and her nurse dutifully offered an arm.

 

Bismarck noted how Wei’s countenance maintained an even expressionlessness throughout the entire conversation between Hui Ying and Charles. He wondered if she knew a word of English.

 

“I am rather tired, as you must understand for someone of my ‘condition,’” Hui Ying said, the derision presented rather plainly in her tone. “I would appreciate a moment’s respite before the preliminary talks begin.”

 

“Of course.” Charles’ head bobbed in response. “Speaking for myself, I do hope we are able to find time in our busy schedules to chat on a more intimate level than the talks will allow. The two of us aren’t very different in our positions and, if I may, I’d appreciate hearing your thoughts on a few subjects….” Charles wistfully trailed off before snappily returning his attention to the conversation at hand. “I do apologize if in my eagerness to speak to one like myself I came off as overly forward. Our lineages may be demanding of us, but I trust we’ll both perform adequately when our names are drawn.”

 

Charles stepped aside and positioned himself so he could perceive both Bismarck and Hui Ying’s group at the same time.

 

“Before I leave you, allow me to introduce to you to the man who will be serving as my personal guard and assistant during these talks.” Charles gestured to Bismarck “He’s Britannia’s newest Knight of Five, Sir Bismarck Waldstein.”

 

Bismarck automatically offered a hand to Hui Ying. Rather than take his hand, she responded with an appraising flicker of her fiery eyes, which Bismarck perceived to linger exactly where a soldier might holster their gun.

 

But as a Knight of the Rounds, Bismarck sported a weapon different from your average soldier. Peeking out from under his cape was a massive broadsword, a weapon crafted specially for Bismarck with regard to creating a weapon to match his towering body. A sakuradite gem glowed faintly in the sword’s golden hilt, its light virtually undetectable in all but total darkness. The blade was forged with a rare and dense ore the color of black cerulean, although it was presently invisible within its ornate dark blue scabbard.

 

While the heavy sword operated well as a part of his outfit and ensemble as Knight of Five, a designation granting special permissions to possess such a trinket during the talks when other weapons were strictly banned, the dull, weighty edge was still plenty deadly in the hands of a hulking man like Bismarck should he have cause to draw the blade from its scabbard.

 

It was the woman with the piercing eyes, Fei, who accepted Bismarck's offered hand.

 

“Fei Wong. I am Hui Ying’s guard. You want a message to Hui Ying? Talk to me.”

 

Bismarck nodded, fairly certain of what Fei was getting at in her pitchy accent. Fei awkwardly pumped her and Bismarck’s locked hands up and down, her grip more like that of a sailor’s than a diplomat’s, before eventually letting go.

 

“The list of attendees submitted by China was rather short, particularly those noted in association with you, Princess; I’m impressed you decided to travel only with a single guard and your nurse,” Bismarck said. He crossed his arms out of sight beneath his cape and massaged his sore hand. “Even the lowliest Britannian noble’s daughter hardly dares step beyond her estate without at least a dozen servants to escort her luggage.” Bismarck chuckled a little at his own joke. When no one else joined him, he cleared his throat and glanced again at the briefcase Fei carried. “I respect a woman who prefers to travel without excessive baggage,” Bismarck nodded.

 

Bismarck recalled the numerous occasions while he courted a renowned noble’s eldest daughter. On how many instances had he shown up at her door at the appointed time only to be advised she required at least another hour to select an appropriate dress from among several dozen options she’d then need another half hour to squeeze into? When it happened one night Bismarck showed up late, not even by half an hour, she broke it off with him over how much distress the waiting caused her.

 

A cold shiver prickled up Bismarck’s spine. At least as Knight of Five he’d never have to go through nonsense like _that_ ever again.

 

“I travel with protection and assistance suitable to one of my position and needs,” Hui Ying scoffed. “I’m no Princess, at least not in the way you Britannians define them. I’m here merely as a diplomat on behalf of the Royal Family. Only someone bored out of their wits would bother targeting or placing their bets on a frail woman like me with such distant claims to the throne.”

 

Hui Ying tapped her tense-faced nurse on the shoulder and spoke something in Chinese, which Bismarck couldn’t understand a single word of. Wei and Fei both nodded, and each headed for the buffet table and eastern elevator respectively.

 

Hui Ying bobbed her head at Charles and Bismarck. She grasped her dresslike robes through the cloth of her sleeves and curtsied with grace and poise rivalling that of even the most refined Britannian noblewoman.

 

_______________________________


	8. Peace Sells But Who's Buying Act Two

**A/N: Here's the second part of the Chapter.**

**Enjoy :).**

**Blackmanaburning and Blackmambauk**

* * *

**[ ](https://www.deviantart.com/blackmambauk/art/Roanapur-Connection-729724147) **

 

"I look forward to our speaking more once the talks officially begin," Hui Ying said. She rose from her curtsy, a movement she'd practiced to perfection in anticipation of a day like today when she'd have cause to use it. It took all her willpower not to squint at the intense sunlight boring into her eyes from between two towering men's shoulders.

"Likewise," said the shorter of the two men, Charles. Both men shifted on their feet, the various silver buttons and polished buckles of their attire flashing mercilessly in Hui Ying's eyes.

Hui Ying held out until both men turned away. Once Hui Ying no longer sensed their attention on her, she shuffled away, her vision so blurred and aching from the sun it mattered little whether her eyes were open or closed.

Luckily the eastern half of the hall was sparsely populated, making it a simple matter for her to walk without colliding with anyone. With her vision gradually returning, Hui Ying kept her gaze trained ahead. She did it to avoid the dozens of sets of judging eyes which stared at her with their piercing gazes and drilled into her mind their unhidden thoughts: ' _What point is there in someone like her attending these talks?'_

One quiet corner, enveloped in the combined shade of several support pillars which spiraled into a trunklike knot of bronze steel, particularly attracted Hui Ying.

She stepped into the shady metal alcove and, out of sight of anyone else in the room, rested her shoulder against one of the cool pillars.

Hui Ying lifted her hands. Her sleeves slipped, revealing her immaculately manicured fingers and pale skin which hadn't known a day's physical labor. Her face convulsed and morphed into a twisted and revolted expression, one she couldn't possibly show publicly, much less express to the object of her revulsion.

Hui Ying layered her shaking hands over each other and proceeded to rub her knuckles raw where that accursed Charles zi Britannia's lips dared to touch her skin.

' _Vile, disgusting, horrid, dirty…!'_

Hui Ying's paper-thin skin quickly gave way beneath her fingernails, her knuckles becoming a patchwork of her own bloody clawmarks. But no matter how harshly she scraped, she couldn't seem to erase from her flesh the memory of the wetness of Charles' spittle, the roughness of his chapped lips, and the hoary scraping of his bearded chin.

Hui Ying lost track of how long she stood in the darkness as she desperately tried to claw the Britannian scum from her hand. But eventually she noticed, along with the sound of her scraping fingernails, a peculiar sound whose origins seemed to be close by. It was an unmistakable sound, made all the more noteworthy for how unprepared Hui Ying was to hear the slow, papery _swo-wo-wo-wo-osh_ of...

' _Cards shuffling?'_

Hui Ying lifted her eyes from her bloodied fingers. She focused her gaze in the direction of the sound. Although Hui Ying couldn't see much in the shadowy, cherry red twilight, the flashing of glossy white paper drew her eyes like a cat's to a shiny bell.

"My… what an unexpected turn of events," said a voice too deep and throaty to call feminine, yet also too nasally and airy to call masculine. "I never considered anyone else would find fit to wander into the shadows here, much less you, Princess."

A ripple in the darkness helped Hui Ying make out not ten feet away from her a tall, bulky form. The figure blended seamlessly with their surroundings, the glossy black cloak draping from their padded shoulders glistening ruddy and gold from the light reflecting off the bronze pillars. A boardlike sword hung from their side. It was a sword of a type similar to the sort Hui Ying's brother once introduced her to in their youth, during an era when he was expected to master a new martial weapon every week. While Hui Ying mostly ignored her brother's ravings about this and that blade, she remembered this sword was called a rapier.

Hui Ying shifted her foot back just a hair. This figure—whoever they were—were a threat from the mere fact of how they hid their face beneath a hood, much less from the fact that they carried a blade.

' _That accent… it isn't Chinese, but it isn't wholly Britannian either. In fact, they almost sound...'_

"Likewise. I wasn't expecting to encounter any Japanese at these preliminary talks," Hui Ying replied similarly in what would be the dominant language of the talks. She raised her chin and crossed her arms within her billowy sleeves.

"I can assure you I have very good reason for being here," the masked figure chuckled in response.

They repeatedly cut and shuffled the cards with the skill of a veteran gambler, without once risking a card flying loose from the deck.

The figure pushed away from the twisted pillars behind them. They approached Hui Ying, their glossy black cloak betraying nothing as to what lie hidden beneath their robes.

They fanned the cards before Hui Ying. The pattern of deep blue diamonds tessellated on the cards' backs made Hui Ying's eyes twitch and narrow just short of crossing.

"Everyone in attendance at these talks has a specific role to play, be they one of the many faceless numbers…."

A round of boisterous laughter drew Hui Ying's attention to the shiny bronze. Reflected in the twisted metal was the grotesquely distorted image of a group of pompously outfitted Britannian nobles in conversation with a group of Chinese officials dressed in fashionable western-style suits.

' _They're treating this like their own personal holiday… have they no sense of the importance of these talks?'_

The robed figure pulled a card from the fanned-out deck. They held it before Hui Ying, blocking her view of one of the merrymakers and presented her with the unremarkable Two of Clubs. With a slip of their thumb and forefinger, the figure fanned the single card, revealing several other numbered cards from all four suits clustered just behind.

"... or one of the truly influential faced few."

The robed figure brought the cards together again behind the Two of Clubs. They flipped the card around, but rather than see the back of the card, Hui Ying found herself face to face with the serious expressions of the Jack of Diamonds and the Jack of Spades.

Through the slim V-like slice between the two cards, Hui Ying saw the two men she met just moments ago: Charles zi Britannia and Bismarck Waldstein. Charles again sported his famously distant gaze that seemed to be his default expression in every photograph and video Hui Ying had ever seen of him; Bismarck, meanwhile, stood by like an overgrown pup eager to earn a pat or two from his assigned master.

"... and then, there are those who are worthless trifles, extras with no purpose or value yet, even when removed, always seem to find a way to slip back into the deck." The figure passed a hand over the two Jacks—

"Your card tricks might impress at a child's birthday party, with a little more practice." Hui Ying cracked a thin smile at the cheap parlor tricks and shut her eyes before the big finale. It occurred to her during the odd display the stranger's appearance could only signify one thing: "You're one of _his_ people, I'll bet," Hui Ying whispered. She looked again at the robed figure, their hand frozen over the card in the same position as when she shut her eyes. Hui Ying focused her gaze in the exact spot where she supposed their eyes would be beneath their hood. "Just stand by for now."

The robed figure tilted their head at Hui Ying's soft command. A thin horizontal line indented their cloth mask around where their mouth might be.

Hui Ying caught sight of Wei's bronze reflection scanning the room with her wide black eyes in a near-panicked search for Hui Ying. Surrounded by people all speaking English, a language with which Wei was well enough acquainted to read and write but not at all confident enough with to speak without mincing and stuttering over her words, Hui Ying wanted to be at Wei's side as much as possible.

"Excuse me," Hui Ying said. She stepped out from the shadows, her embroidered red flats muffling the sound of her hurried stride.

"Quite unexpected indeed…." The robed figure dropped their hand, revealing to their nonexistent audience the final card in their series of tricks. "I'll be watching to see… whether you're a forgettable extra, or the wild card in this game."

Hui Ying maintained her poise like the Royal Family's Ghost ought, and allowed herself to appear as if she too were somewhat aimlessly bumbling like Wei. The many haughty officials who since her childhood always gazed at Hui Ying with pitying eyes, but who never once lifted a finger to aid any but themselves seemed to think she never heard their whispers. Even today the officials present didn't bother stifling their voices when they unrepentantly stared and said, "Such a poor thing, even her nursemaid needs someone to hold her hand!" before returning to their gossip.

"… Minister Xu isn't here? Must be hiding near Hong Kong…"

"… I bet that skundren Roku is lurking around somewhere…"

"… General Tsao is having trouble keeping peace in Guandong…"

"… keep an eye on the Indian matter, a weakened Britannian position there could do wonders for us…"

"… pirates in the southern sea have been making real trouble for Admiral Zhao's patrols…"

"… I wonder if Prince Chen will like my latest dress. It was made by the famous designer..."

"… Chen could easily defeat a woman like Sumeragi Shizuka in battle. If she'd stop hiding behind her books…"

"… Kyoto house raised their prices again, they are a real thorn …"

Not a one was worth the effort of speaking to, and it was so much easier to ignore them if Hui Ying only pretended she could neither see nor hear them.

"Princess!" Relief flooded Wei's expression when she finally caught view of Hui Ying. "I found sparkling and mineral water, so I fetched you some of each."

Wei offered Hui Ying two separate water glasses: a tall champagne glass fizzing with plentiful bubbles, and a portly goblet of the spring variety.

Hui Ying selected the sparkling water. She swirled the transparent liquid in the glass before bringing it to her lips, the acidic burn of the water invigorating her senses like a crisp winter blast. Hui Ying's light makeup left a faint impression of her pink lips on the glass which she noticed only once she returned the glass to Wei.

"Thank you, Wei." Hui Ying's hand lingered on the glass, savoring the soft brush of Wei's fingers against her own and allowing herself, for a moment, to forget all else. That is, until Wei's horrified expression reminded Hui Ying of the fine gridwork of bloody cuts on her knuckles.

"When did this happen…?" Wei began to ask, but stopped. Her gaze focused directly behind Hui Ying, an inaudible gasp catching in her throat.

Hui Ying turned around to see at what held Wei's attention so fast as to distract her from Hui Ying's disfigured hand.

The glowing sakuradite guiding rails of the eastern elevator intensified in color, the slight _hiss_ of pressurized air rushing from the module capping the glass elevator shaft. At the same time, the eerie sound of dozens of feet stepping in time emanated from the staircase spiraling up from below.

A line of men in stiff red and gold-embroidered robes materialized from the eastern staircase. Each man wore a silver metal helm, and gripped in his right hand a dull-edged ceremonial spear. Once they reached the top of the staircase, the men alternately spun left and right on their heels. They flanked the elevator in two precisely spaced units, their fierce expressions fixating on the eastern horizon.

Hui Ying grimaced at a blinding glint of gold that arose within the elevator shaft. She resisted the urge to block the glittering brightness which only became bearable once the elevator pressure equalized, and the glass doors _wooshed_ open.

"It's—" Wei gasped. Hui Ying noticed the color of Wei's rouged cheeks intensify before she nervously shifted behind Hui Ying.

' _Chen.'_ Hui Ying turned her entire body to face her brother during his grand entrance at the talks.

Where Charles' glaring power exuded from the indomitable backing of the man he represented at these talks, Chen's dazzling presence was all his own.

A man brought up with the knowledge his destiny was to succeed uncontested into one of the most ancient and honored of thrones, Chen Qing radiated the confidence of one born to rule one of the most populated regions of the world.

A dark crimson outer coat draped from beneath Chen's gold-armored shoulders, the flowing fabric cascading to his feet like a waterfall of shed blood. Beneath his outer coats he wore fine black robes masterfully hand-embroidered with the image of a gold dragon grasping a flaming silver pearl. Mirroring the design on his robes, a solid gold headpiece inlaid with a single white pearl gathered Chen's nearly waist-length hair into an elegant black tail interwoven with fine gold strands.

A jade dragon ornament, the only of its kind in the world, dangled from Chen's thick belt and denoted his status as heir apparent _Huang Taizi._ Opposite the ornament a gold hilt poked out from between Chen's robes and outer coat, the sword's fine workmanship the product of an illustrious master—his name long lost to time—who lived in another dynasty.

' _You are the answer to our parent's prayers, Chen: a dragon cloaked in death and blood.'_

Hui Ying bowed in reverence to her elder brother, just as all the other Chinese in the room did. While none would yet fall kowtow at his feet, a respect reserved for the Emperor's arrival, in mere weeks Chen would ascend the ranks beyond humanity and find kinship among the gods themselves.

A man raised to be faultless both in charming personality and with the sword, women and men alike beheld Chen with desire and awe. His burning magnetism drew others to him like moths to the pyre, while Hui Ying may as well have been an actual ghost for all the attention she garnered whenever she and Chen happened to occupy adjacent space.

But while the generals and eunuchs alike fought for Chen's attentions, Hui Ying felt no desire to bask in her brother's radiance. She was one of the few who saw her brother for his many flaws: for the ways in which he thought not of the people who would soon be his, but concerned himself quite narrowly for how best to wage armed combat in a world divided between Britannia to the west and China to the east.

' _It's been nearly six months….'_ Hui Ying laced her fingers together over the flower adorning her sash. ' _How are we supposed to work together during these talks when we've gone so long without a single word exchanged?'_

A cold sweat erupted on Hui Ying's skin when Chen's meandering eyes finally located hers. Not that it took much effort to pick out her ghostly form from among the dark haired many; even Britannians who looked at Asian peoples as though they all had the same face found her instantly memorable and recognizable.

Chen's armored boots clanged loudly with his every swinging step over the polished stone flooring. He didn't so much as spare a glance at those who shuffled out of his path. A grin more befitting an excited child than the soon-to-be Emperor nearly split his head in two.

" _Mèimei_!" Chen called out to Hui Ying and spread open his arms as if he expected her to run at him. "I never imagined you would arrive before me!" His brimming elation conflated with his sophisticated tone and fine ceremonial clothes reminded Hui Ying of just what sort of man her self-interested brother always became in her presence. Beneath the extravagant ceremonial armor beat the heart of what Hui Ying considered a brother who, while he didn't treat her like a ghost in the room, doted and fawned over her a bit more than she found entirely tolerable.

" _Gē ge._ " Hui Ying greeted Chen with neither the joy of siblings reunited, nor with the disdain she wished she could express while so many eyes observed them.

"What is this way you look at your brother upon seeing him again?" Chen's excitement dampened somewhat. He stopped, and placed a hand over his gilded chest. A solid gold signet ring sparkled on his littlest finger. "You break your brother's heart with your coldness, Hui Ying. I thought of your warm smile every day of the campaign these last six months—won't you show me the genuine article at last?"

"You speak just like our father," Hui Ying covered her mouth with her sleeve and put on the act of a pouting courtesan. "You say you thought of me every day, yet you didn't once write or call."

"After parting the way we did six months ago, I wanted to see you in person when next we spoke. I do hope we can take these talks as an opportunity to restore our sibling bond before I become Emperor." Chen's dark eyes communicated to Hui Ying his sincerity.

While it was no apology for disregarding her concerns with his recent campaigns on the western border—all military successes to be sure, albeit at the cost of an uptick in civilian unrest—extending down to the southwest, particularly along the China-Nepal border, Hui Ying needed Chen's cooperation going forward.

Although it seared her pride to do so… there was only one thing Hui Ying could do in response.

Hui Ying threw open her arms and leapt at her brother. Chen readily pulled Hui Ying into a tight embrace, and spun her in a glimmering vortex of ethereal silver twirling around a golden flame.

"I could never stay cold with you, Chen!" Hui Ying giggled girlishly, her pearly grin eroding the last six months, the last decade even, in a single moment and returning the siblings to their childhood.

"There is the smile of my dear little sister!"

A dozen bright flashes made Hui Ying squint. She gripped Chen's robes and struggled to hold back an intense vertigo and nausea.

"Let's not argue at these talks, and enjoy this rare time together. With mother and father as well once they arrive." Chen, suddenly made aware of his sister's fragile health, set Hui Ying down on her feet. His long fingers lingered about her trim waist while Hui Ying's nausea dissipated and her black-spotted vision gradually recovered.

Glancing past Chen's shoulder Hui Ying caught sight of a camera crew and reporters setting up behind a cordon to the south. One savvy Britannian reporter in particular, equipped with a burst-photography camera, looked very pleased with himself to have captured such a rare display between the Imperial Siblings.

' _How can we possibly enjoy ourselves at these talks?'_ Hui Ying trampled down her real feelings, instead deciding to further ingratiate herself to her brother's whims.

"I wish the talks would never end, if it means I can spend more time with you, elder brother!"

The words burned in Hui Ying's mouth, but they appeared to have the desired effect. Tonight would be Hui Ying's best chance to speak with Chen, when he was at his most eager to alleviate the six months' unrelieved buildup of desire to indulge and adore his most beloved little sister. She had to speak with him before the talks drew out his bullheadedness and made him impossible to sway with even the most reasonable of arguments.

"Prince Chen, Your Highness…" a familiar voice wheezed. "We are within… the Imperial Palace. Please present yourself in a dignified manner... before the press and ambassadors!"

' _And of course, Chen can go nowhere without his favorite lapdog….'_

"That voice…." Hui Ying lolled her eyes in no particular direction. Hui Ying waited until she could feel the man's huffing breath tickle the loose hairs surrounding her ears before she finished her statement. "Might it be Major General Liu Xin?"

Hui Ying stepped away from Chen. She swung her slippered foot awkwardly to the side and at an angle that would save her the unpleasantness of brushing the approaching pot-bellied man's distended stomach with any part of her body. Her small foot stamped on the General's freshly shined Alden boots with accuracy too perfect to dismiss as a mere accident on Hui Ying's part.

General Liu glared at Hui Ying, his beady eyes nearly obscured by the man's drooping, pudgy eyelids. He panted and blew, the rise and fall of his bulbous head agitating the thinning hairs atop his head and revealing a progressing pattern baldness. He was more likely too out of breath to speak after climbing the stairs along with Chen's elite squad of Imperial Guards than unable to come up with any choice words for the blundering Princess.

Just because he found himself in Chen's good favor so soon after gaining his General rank in the People's Liberation Army—ranks questionably earned in the wake of the disappearances of numerous tibetan priests and the "repatriation" of a large group of asylum-seeking muslims to their home soil without the utilization of a single caravan car—the man seemed to think himself also in a position to advise Chen in matters beyond the military control room where his brand of "loyalty" to China revealed its cutthroat nature.

While the lowly Princess Hui Ying might have been held accountable for her "error" in any other setting, when she played her ghostly games around her brother, she was utterly immune to accusations of wrongdoing.

"Mind yourself, Major General." Chen drew Hui Ying a step closer to himself. His fierce black eyes narrowed on Liu like those of a dragon about to exhale a lungful of fire. "These cameras are taxing on Hui Ying's eyes. Remind the members of the press to switch off their camera flashes. Relieve any who refuse to do so of their badges and cameras," Chen issued the command like an Emperor proclaiming an Imperial Edict. He punctuated the order with a snapping motion of his unoccupied arm that made the heavy gold plating his shoulder clang atop his bloodred outer robes.

"As you command, Imperial Prince!" Liu sputtered, his straight-backed salute almost comical coming from a man of his exceptional girth. Still maintaining his attention, he turned about face and bellowed without an ounce of decorum, "Colonal Ma!"

… directly into the face of his subordinate, who stood not three feet behind him.

"Y-yes Major General?" The lanky man removed his rectangular glasses. He wiped down the lenses with a soft cloth he pulled from his dark olive uniform's front pocket. Nervous sweat visibly dampened the man's forehead, which he dabbed away once his glasses were cleaned.

"See to it the press refrain from using their camera flashes. If they resist, confiscate their badges and equipment!"

"Yes sir," Ma received the order of his superior with the precision of a soldier who spent more time scratching his forehead with a pencil eraser than saluting.

' _I pity his officers,'_ Hui Ying winced, and not only because of the shooting pains from her assaulted eyes. It seemed more than a little unfair that Liu foisted all responsibility off onto others.

"I am worried, Chen," Hui Ying feebly tugged on her brother's robes.

"Do not fret, dearest sister. The cameras won't bother you again," Chen reassured her. But Hui Ying shook her head.

"Not about the cameras," Hui Ying said. She cupped a hand over her mouth, yet her words were hardly uttered in a whisper. "I heard a rumour from Minister Roku that the Germans caught one of ours, an agent from one of the new cyber-espionage units? I'm afraid that the EU and German representatives in attendance at these talks won't be very pleased if this turns out to be true."

"How—" Liu staggered awkwardly around. He snapped his head left and right to see who all might have heard Hui Ying, his widening eyes bulging puggishly from their small sockets. "T-that's a completely baseless rumour, I assure you," Liu hissed. His eyes darted between Chen and Hui Ying. A nervous sweat beaded on the man's forehead where it mingled with his exertion-driven perspiration.

Rather than be suspicious of Liu's near-slip and suspicious demeanor, Chen accepted the man's words at face value.

"The Major General says there is no problem, so you needn't worry any more about these rumours you heard from Minister Roku," Chen stroked Hui Ying's arm in his attempt to relieve her of her worries.

But Hui Ying was no fool. She wasn't about to listen to the words of a man like Major General Liu Xin. Unlike her brother who saw only the things presented to him in broad daylight, she was well acquainted with the oftentimes unsavoury dark side of things. She saw the report of a certain Sergeant-Major who Liu forced into exile to die. As her superior officer, Liu should've been the one held accountable for the huge lapse in precautions, precautions abandoned in the drive for better results, discovered under his watch.

Hui Ying stifled her grin.

' _I hope you enjoy coming face-to-face with her again when she hand-delivers the information that will be your and Britannia's neuce.'_

In that moment, the sun sunk below the horizon, taking with it all light but that of a distant, fiery glow burning low in the faraway clouds. Darkness and silence enveloped the eastern half of the city while the western area's villas and manors illuminated the night with their arrays of sparkling lights.

A low hum radiated from no less than a dozen different points in the lookout. Tiny motors turned invisible gears within the brass beams and window casings and drew thousands of small shades over the panes of the just as many thousands of individual glass windows.

In less than a minute, the pyramidal lookout shelled itself in a layer of steel.

A loud _click_ sounded, and hundreds of lights set into the floor's perimeter switched on, illuminating the room just enough for the occupants to perceive each other's shadows. It wasn't until the enormous hologram projector in the center of the room switched on that the planetarium-like observatory's walls were illuminated well enough for people to perceive each other's faces.

The hologram projected the image of the world. While several small patches of land were left a neutral grey, the majority of the large landmasses were painted in more or less solid patches of bold contrasting color, showing the state of the world's powers at a glance: crimson for the Holy Britannian Empire in the west; pink denoting Britannia's bedfellow Euro Britannia; orange for the resilient E.U.; the ancient lands of China depicted in jade green; and aquamarine for the wilds of the Australian continent. There was also the slightly off-coloration of the Indian subcontinent, and the shadow of grey painting China's small island neighbor of Japan.

While neither of these areas had themselves representatives at the talks, it would be no exaggeration to say that the outcome of these talks had a high likelihood of influencing the future of their various peoples. Be they meant to fall entirely into the hands of Britannia under Malcolm's ironfisted control, or join China under the rule of young Emperor Chen Qing the Valiant, all it would take was a single word, a single swirl of the pen on a piece of parchment to forever alter the lives of millions.

"I hoped we could catch up a bit before the preliminary talks began, but it seems that shall have to wait for later." Chen walked, his one hand protectively guiding Hui Ying by the waist while they made their way toward the center of the room. Liu and Wei trailed behind them, while Ma dealt with the reporters and Fei…

' _Where is Fei?'_ Hui Ying glanced around the room. She eventually found Fei speaking to a blonde haired young man dressed in a black and white server's uniform. He had a cart of hot foods near the southern utility elevator which he seemed to be using to keep some space between himself and Fei. ' _She's speaking rather a lot, I wonder if that server did something to upset her.'_

Minor representatives and delegates made their way to stand beside their seats at the central round table, while the various attendees found their chairs at rectangular tables on either the east or west side as determined by their Britannian or Chinese status.

Two Knights of the Round stood by at attention at a table to the north of the central table along with their squires. While they wouldn't take part in the talks themselves, their very presence showed Britannia took these talks seriously enough to spare them in addition to Charles' guard Bismarck.

While the boorish man in a bright magenta cape hardly held Hui Ying's attention, her eyes lingered on the pretty woman Knight standing beside him.

' _Eleanor Soresi… her brother is spearheading the Britannian purge of India and it's vast minority groups, when he isn't hunting tigers or getting into fights like the one he had with General Xinghe. Xinghe's sudden decision to remain in Beijing, and Major General Liu's and Colonel Ma's sudden assignment to these talks was a direct result of learning she had planned to attend the talks.'_ How convenient for Britannia that she'd be able to deliver fresh news to their Indian forces personally after the talks concluded.

Chen's hand slipped from Hui Ying's waist. The two Imperial Siblings stood but a single step shy of crossing over into the western half of the observatory. Mirroring Chen and Hui Ying were the Britannian Grand Duke Charles zi Britannia—Emperor Malcolm's proxy—and the Euro Britannian representative Sir Raymond du Saint-Gilles, themselves keeping a respectful pace back from toeing the eastern side.

No cameras flashed, but the murmur of voices from the press corner and the flicker of tiny red LEDs signalled a start to their worldwide broadcasts and the official start of the preliminary talks of the Britannia-China Vermillion City summit conference.

Sir Raymond crossed an arm over his broad chest and bowed to Hui Ying across from him. "I look forward to an even better relationship between China and Euro Britannia going forward."

Thankfully Sir Raymond seemed to be a worldly man, foregoing both the western handshake and kiss on cheeks for a more respectable bow when speaking to Hui Ying for the first time that night. For a man like that who knew to keep his hands to himself, Hui Ying was happy to show off her own practiced European-style greeting.

"I look forward to a deepened friendship as well," Hui Ying lifted her skirts and bent slightly forward. She lowered herself in an elegant curtsy that brought her knees within a hair's breadth of touching the ground, a gesture her position and status as a woman of noble birth would mandate were she a princess of the west.

Upon returning to her former standing posture, Hui Ying noticed the charmed look on the Euro Britannian's face. Many a Britannian noble seated behind Sir Raymond gawked at Hui Ying's limber display, while more than a handful of young ladies jealously snubbed their noses at the showy Chinese princess.

A sigh of relief buffeted Hui Ying from behind, doubtlessly from the many men who frequented the Imperial Court who were relieved she hadn't fallen on her rear with the entire world watching.

' _Don't do anything to embarrass Chen.'_ Their words stabbed into Hui Ying's back. She particularly felt Liu's boggle-eyes on the back of her skull, and could barely keep herself from losing her composure on camera when she imagined the incredulous look that must have been on his face.

"Well done Hui Ying," Chen whispered, his face tilted just a hair so the cameras wouldn't catch the movement of his lips. He faced forward again, practically posing for the cameras with his chest puffed out like a proud peacock when he addressed Charles. "While Emperor Malcolm attends to his other duties and Emperor Xiang and Empress Wu unfortunately can't be with us for these preliminary talks tonight, I am honored by this opportunity to stand here today with you, Grand Duke Charles zi Britannia. May the talks proceed just as gracefully as Hui Ying has demonstrated for us." Chen spoke in that commanding voice of his that never failed to make any in a position to hear him swoon and throw themselves at his feet, either to be trampled or used as deemed fitting.

"I hope that by working closely together Britannia and China can become an example for the entire world." Charles grumbled in that weighty, gruff voice of his. Charles removed the glove from his right hand, and both he and Chen reached out to meet each other halfway.

A round of applause filled the room. Voices of reporters speaking in a variety of languages joined the mix, each fighting to be heard above the noise while their camera crews and photographers did their best to document the historic moment in the dimly lit "no flash" room

An unexpected _ka-thunk_ , and the room was engulfed in a darkness lit only by the pinprick glimmer of red camera LEDs. The clapping abruptly stopped, replaced by a hesitant murmur.

' _This wasn't mentioned in the ceremony briefing.'_ Hui Ying peered around, but was unable to make out anything in the abject darkness.

Before the situation could escalate into panic, the hologram projector whirred to life again. It lit up the pyramidal walls in a wide beam, coloring each of the four sides a flat, royal blue color.

' _Technical difficulties?'_

Red and white bands materialized in a cross pattern on each of the four walls. A coat of arms flashed into being over where the bands of color crossed and displayed an emblem depicting a crown surrounded by laurel branches, a lion, and a serpent.

A chill ran up Hui Ying's spine, followed by a flash of burning fury. This was a summit where all were supposed to speak on equal grounds. However, suddenly the Holy Britannian Empire's flag caged them in from all sides.

"What is the meaning of this Charles?" Hui Ying didn't hold herself back when she spun around and glared at the Britannian representative.

"No… he couldn't be," The ashen paleness on Charles's face upon observing his fatherland's flag emblazoned on the walls was enough to make Hui Ying's fury dampen somewhat, but only in proportion to her increase of alertness.

Loudspeakers embedded in the thickest wall supports crackled awkwardly to life. Two full stanzas of the Holy Britannian Empire's anthem played before the speaker static and volume levelled out. In the midst of the music, a voice boomed:

"His Majesty the Emperor, Malcolm di Britannia!"

All eyes in the room shifted toward the western wall. A sakuradite glow emanated from the elevator. Britannian nobles preparing to take to their seats stumbled to their knees so eagerly their kneecaps cracked against the hard floor with the percussive sound of a twisting sheet of bubble wrap.

"Uncle," Charles hissed.

Hui Ying chanced another look at Charles' face and found a twisted expression of disbelief so profound as to make him appear almost unrecognizable.

Charles was the last Britannian in the room to fall upon his knees before his Emperor, a man whose presence stripped Charles of his special designation as Malcolm's proxy at the talks and reduced him to just another subject among many.

With all his subjects grovelling at his feet, Hui Ying had full view of the godlike man who controlled so much of the western world.

Even from afar Hui Ying's eyes were assaulted by the extravagance of the towering Malcolm's full regalia: his velvety violet cloak lined in gold silk and embroidered with a lush garden of red roses, the deep plum of his coat, the snowy whiteness of his pant legs, and coal black boots that appeared much too tight for the man's feet. A scraggly white wig that ought to have been replaced a decade ago sat slightly askew atop the man's liver-spotted head. With each step Malcolm hobbled the solid gold crown shifted atop his head. The crown glittered and sparkled, each of its seven delicate spire points holding hostage a colorful jewel taken as spoils from the world's many continents over the course of Britannia's expeditions and conquests.

"It's really him, the Emperor of Britannia!" Wei's teeth chattered like her buckling knees. Luckily the gasps of surprise and elation from the Britannians at unexpectedly finding themselves in the presence of their Emperor blocked her voice from carrying further than Hui Ying's ear.

Accompanying the Emperor was a man who perfectly paired the gorilla-like presence of the magenta-caped Knight of the Rounds with the grand size of Knight of Five Bismarck Waldstein. A thick mop of curly gold hair shrouded his head and covered much of his face in the form of a neatly kept beard. His white suit matched that of the other Knights of the Rounds currently present. Eyes the color of the vast ocean stared dutifully forward, while his flashy gold cape plumed behind him like a sheet of liquid metal.

' _And he must be Malcolm's favorite, Knight of One Sir Arthur Hightower.'_

Unlike the other Knights whose swords were forged and granted to them upon their knighting, Sir Arthur Hightower's was his very own family heirloom. Even Hui Ying knew the popular legend of King Arthur and his fabled sword Excalibur. And this Arthur Hightower, a Knight of the highest order, was said to be the direct descendant of the legend himself. If any desired proof, they needed only observe the sword at Sir Arthur's side, its golden scabbard delicately engraved with crossing lines of royal blue and carved with ancient and intricate runes.

In his youth, Sir Arthur Hightower was said to have rent the very sky with the blade of his family's treasured sword, his foes becoming little more than bloodied tatters with a single swing of Excalibur.

Of course, that was merely Excalabur's fantastic legend extending itself and attempting to apply to a real person in the present day. This Sir Arthur was legendary only for his unshakable loyalty to his deranged Emperor Malcolm, his skill with the sword in addition to the legend of the one he carried resulting in his being dubbed Knight of One.

The _tak-tak-tak_ of Malcolm's cane grew steadily louder. He strode past his subjects without so much as a glance, his cane once striking the head of a nobleman who leaned just a bit too far forward in his eager reverence.

' _We cannot allow China to give another inch to a man like Malcolm di Britannia!'_

Hui Ying grit her teeth, barely able to withhold her rage at the sudden appearance of the man who was living embodiment of the entire world's problems.

Malcolm stopped a dozen or so feet away. He lifted the hand not gripping his cane, his clawlike upturned fingers sparkling with countless priceless gems.

"Rise."

The air itself quaked at Malcolm's absolute command. None of the nobles dared clap or chatter with their Emperor among them, unless he were to command them to do so himself. They shuffled to their feet and awaited his next command like a cast of puppets dangling from a single master string.

Malcolm eyeballed the room, his dull greyed gaze soon finding Charles and Bismarck. He gestured to the men with a flick of his finger. They strode over to him, a momentary wash of relief loosening the tension in the room when Malcolm occupied himself chatting with his nephew and Knight.

Hui Ying noticed a light tug on her sleeve.

"I don't understand," Wei cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered into Hui Ying's ear. "Why do they seem so afraid of their Emperor?"

Compared to the Emperor of China whose presence as a living god inspired reverence and respect, Malcolm's people, even his own nephew and Knights, cowered before him like beaten dogs.

"They fear him because he commands it," Hui Ying mumbled in answer. "Would you refuse to kneel in the presence of a man who would have even the gods prostrate themselves before him?"

Bismarck and Charles staggered backward, the two men appearing suddenly drained of their energy. They looked between each other, then at Malcolm, and finally toward Chen and Hui Ying. Charles gnashed his teeth, while Bismarck's expression was one of utter bafflement. Bismarck and Charles remained where they stood, while the _tak-tak-tak_ of Malcolm's cane resumed and he made his way—with a slight limp in his step—over to the Imperial Siblings.

Up close, Hui Ying traced every crack and pockmark in the Emperor's pale, timeworn face. Old scars the product of ceaseless warring both at home and abroad bespoke a life led by means of conflict. Dark orbits circled fishlike grey eyes which perceived nothing but death wherever Malcolm cast his gaze.

"How unexpected of you to join us for these talks, Emperor. I look forward to working with you," Chen spoke in his most regal of tones. He dazzled the cameras with his confident smile and offered Malcolm his hand.

However, Malcolm didn't so much as flinch in acknowledgement of Chen or his offer.

Instead, Malcolm kept his deadly eyes fixed on Hui Ying. He cracked a grin at her, his frontmost teeth appearing notably smoother and whiter than the others lining his jaw.

"So Emperor Xiang and Empress Wu have yet to make themselves present, have they?" Malcolm clacked the tip of his cane against the floor. "Yet, despite my busy schedule, I managed to arrive in time. I certainly hope they don't mean to mock me by showing up late to a conference they themselves begged for!"

The _clack-clack-clack-clack_ of Malcolm tapping his cane repeatedly pierced Hui Ying's sensitive ears like an ice pick thrusting into her skull.

"I assure you the Emperor and Empress take these talks with the utmost seriousness," Hui Ying cordially stated. "Were it not for the Empress' illness—"

"I am a busy man!" Emperor Malcolm bellowed. He didn't bother in the least to check his angry impatience despite the many cameras pointed at him that very moment. "I haven't the time to wait on a woman in a swoon."

"The Empress is not 'in a swoon.' She is _ill_!" Hui Ying's meek expression broke. Wei placed a consoling hand on Hui Ying's arm, but it did nothing to stymie her incredulousness with the Britannian Emperor.

"You are in no position to speak to _me_ in such a tone, _ghost of the east._ " Malcolm tapped his cane on the floor with finality. A sakuradite-color spark rose from the point of impact like a cherry petal fluttering in the springtime wind. "Understand you will crawl away from this summit with no less than a war. Doubtless the reason they haven't shown their faces and are relying on their children in their stead is because they are too cowardly to stand before me when China has blatantly broken the treaty and is processing its own sakuradite!"

Hui Ying's tongue twisted in her mouth. The issue of sakuradite processing was one China planned to bring up delicately at the summit in conjunction with a proposition for revision of the existing treaty to allow restricted use of the ore as part of the civilian power grid. Denying the reality wasn't an option, but it was not yet the proper time time to bring such a breach of treaty to light.

But Malcolm's mad eyes demanded an immediate explanation. Hui Ying, feeling her hand forced, stepped up to the challenge.

"China is a large nation. Our people vastly outnumber those of Euro Britannia and The Holy Britannian Empire combined," Hui Ying projected in a steady voice. She gracefully met the challenge of the most powerful man on the planet, and unhesitatingly spoke her piece. "Refining sakuradite and using it to generate electrical power creates a fraction of the amount of pollution compared to mining coal and drilling for petroleum, and is something our high population areas desperately need."

"Hui Ying, that's enough." Chen placed a calloused hand on Hui Ying's raillike shoulder in an attempt to silence her.

But Hui Ying rolled her shoulder, subtly breaking free from her brother's gentle attempts to calm the raging fire burning within her. She raised her arms, gesturing to the world beyond the walled-off windows.

"The skies of this very city were choked in smog only hours ago. Those in the western half of the city may not notice it, but the east becomes so toxic on windless days that men and women of all ages suffer daily from asthmatic attacks, and the elderly are routinely found dead in the streets and their homes. Downriver, ash and other runoff has caused fish die-offs and poisoned the environment to make it inhospitable for others. But if the factories here were allowed to make the switch to a sakuradite power source—"

"You broke the terms!" The tip of Malcolm's cane sparked another flurry of sakuradite petals, and left a black scorch mark on the polished flooring. "As penitence for China's previous act of aggression, China was to cease all processing of sakuradite, and ban its import. Was that not the agreement?"

"That 'agreement' was made with Britannia's entire arsenal aimed at the negotiation table," Hui Ying hissed. She dropped her arms and clenched her fists within her sleeves. "China only conducted those tests to find ways to implement sakuradite as an energy source, not to weaponize against Britannia. Chen can confirm that our army remains 100 percent ballistic. We have no interest in creating railguns like what Britannia possesses."

Hui Ying turned to her brother, expecting him to confirm.

But Chen bit his tongue, his composure and charisma melting away. A nervous bead of sweat dripped from his temple. Ignoring Hui Ying's prompt, Chen stepped between Hui Ying and the cameras pointed at her.

"That's enough of this nonsense, Hui Ying," Chen hissed at her. He glared at her with those eyes she so detested, the eyes of a man who was of no mind to budge for anything.

"You warmongering fool!" Hui Ying glared and gnashed her teeth at her brother. She gracefully swept around Chen, leaving the conversation with him for later. "Emperor Malcolm—"

The Knight of One jutted forward and blocked Hui Ying from urther approaching the Emperor.

A sputtering chortle emanated from Malcolm's raspy throat. He turned partway around, and lifted his cane. "Consider this charade over—"

"Britannia isn't the only one with intelligence to air on the opposing party at these talks," Hui Ying interjected.

"And what intelligence might that be?" Malcolm scoffed. He disregarded Hui Ying with a wave of his gloved hand. "Were there any Chinese intelligence operators in Britannia, I would be aware. If they happened upon anything of import, their remains would swiftly find a way back to their homeland."

Malcolm's dry statement, made despite the cameras aimed at him, was just another way he put on display Britannia's indomitable strength. He truly thought Britannia to be his very own impregnable stronghold, a castle with walls large enough to envelop an entire country and which offered some explanation as to why Malcolm rarely left his country's soil.

But as Britannia grew into a larger and larger power, so did its once miniscule weak points become gaping holes.

Out of sight of the cameras, thanks to Arthur Hightower's hulking frame blocking their view, Hui Ying growled, "Perhaps, Emperor, you should orient your gaze toward Thailand."

A devilish sparkle glimmered in the Emperor's menacing eyes. The gears seemed to turn in Malcolm's head, countless dissonant puzzle pieces suddenly orienting themselves into an image only he perceived.

Malcolm's frigid, hearty cackle silenced even the quiet hum of the hologram machine. Everyone in the room, except for Malcolm, drew in a swift, muffled gasp.

Malcolm's dull eyes turned on Hui Ying.

"China has admitted to blatantly disregarding the terms of its previous agreement with The Holy Britannian Empire, and to conspiracy against me!" Malcolm's rabid expression had the veins popping from his forehead. His nostrils flared in righteous fury when he grinned, bloodthirsty spittle wetting the corners of his eager lips. He pointed a crooked, bejeweled finger at Hui Ying. "The Holy Britannian Empire, and all who stand with the fatherland, at this moment declare war on China!"

A wave of shock crashed through the room, with delegates and representatives on each side struggling to comprehend the meaning of a war between Britannia and China. Reporters desperately translated Malcolm's words into their various native tongues so that everyone, from the farmer listening to his radio in the rice field to the child observing the peace talks from her school desk, would know in an instant that the world as they knew it was at its end.

' _Britannia and China… at war.'_

Before the thought finished crossing Hui Ying's mind, a thunderclap of sound pierced the din. A shriek of air shredded past Hui Ying's sensitive ear, a momentary flutter in pressure dizzying her senses.

Hui Ying's eyes dilated to their utmost limits, her heart racing in a natural reaction to the sudden shock.

It allowed her to perceive every fine detail when Emperor Malcolm di Britannia's cane slipped, etching a black scorch mark in the floor and scattering a blizzard of sakuradite sparks. The world seemed to move in slow motion, the haggard old man in heavy regalia collapsing under his own weight and crumpling into a heap upon the floor.

The metallic _shiiing_ of swords leaving their scabbards pierced Hui Ying's ear. The glint of steel dazzled her eyes and left patches of burning spots to cloud her vision.

"Hui Ying!" Chen yelled to his sister. She recognized the color of his dark outer robes when they entered her vision, the muffled flutter of the heavy cloth dulling the screams erupting from every corner of the room.

Something slammed Hui Ying in the gut. She tripped on the hem of her long robes and toppled backward, landing ungracefully on her rear. Hui Ying blinked. Her vision cleared just enough to witness Chen, crouched in a low defensive posture before her, draw his sword from its solid gold scabbard.

A flash of blue silver struck down like lightning from above Chen. A metallic peal reverberated in the air when Chen blocked Sir Arthur Hightower's sword with the white gold ceremonial blade, Chen's gold boots sliding beneath him ever so slightly under the press of Arthur's might.

Chen blocked Arthur's strike, and yet…

A bubble of glimmering air flashed around Arthur and Chen's swords. The bubble burst, and sent a shockwave of hot air screaming from the point of impact.

Something warm splashed Hui Ying's left cheek. She touched her skin and found a thin trickle of blood on her face. But the blood wasn't hers.

A firework pattern of blood outlined Chen's image on the floor. Red spattered the white silk of Hui Ying's clothing, skin, and hair, and dripped from the raw edges of dozens of cuts that simultaneously appeared in Chen's robes.

"I never imagined Excalibur would be so weak!" Gooseflesh rose on Hui Ying's skin at how energetically her brother quipped despite his many wounds. Arthur's lazy expression knotted in disbelief when Chen squared his feet on the floor and forced his way up from underneath Arthur's overwhelming overhead strike: an attack that surely would've cleaved Hui Ying in two.

Chen parried Excalibur aside, the silver and gold swords screeching along the edge of each other's blades. The characters and runes engraved into the swords illuminated from some source within the ancient blades.

But Hui Ying had no time to marvel at Arthur and Chen's fight when their swords became little more than clanging blurs of blue silver and white gold.

"How dare you murder the Emperor!" The cries of a woman shifted Hui Ying's concerns to her right.

Eleanor Soresi dashed atop the central table. She brandished her sword at Hui Ying, her auburn hair whipping around her furious face like an inferno driven by the woman's rage. The sword's silver blade meandered like a river, and scaly patterns of rivulets in the metal decorated the hilt and sword.

Hui Ying scrambled to get up, but her flowing silk robes tangled between her feet and kept her on the floor. The irony of her ceremonial attire being her undoing despite all the effort she put into an escape plan would've made anyone chuckle.

With Eleanor's sword bearing down on her, Hui Ying raised her arms in an instinctual, albeit utterly ineffective defense. The clatter of a sword found its way into Hui Ying's ears. The spears of two of Chen's Ceremonial Guards flashed to her side and worked in tandem to push back Eleanor's sword.

Additional guards swarmed around Eleanor. They brandished their spears at her like bloodred asian hornets bearing down on an enemy of the hive.

"Cowards! Murderers!" Eleanor grunted while staving off wave after wave of guards working to wear her down.

A splash of blood arched above Eleanor. Twin agonized howls emitted from the guards at Eleanor's rear, their sticklike spears failing to withstand the sheer might her boorish compatriot commanded.

" _Uraaaaaaaah!"_ The bearish man grunted and roared. He mowed down guard after guard with the thick-bladed sword he wielded like an axehammer, throwing the Ceremonial Guards' mangled bodies aside like limp dolls.

Both Eleanor and her fellow Knight seemed completely oblivious to their unarmed pages. The boys stood with their arms up between the points of four spears, the honor of the Ceremonial Guards preventing them from harming mere children: so long as they didn't fight back.

Hui Ying sucked in a quick breath and managed to get back to her feet. With Chen and Arthur taking their fight elsewhere and the other Knights of the Round held at bay, Hui Ying chanced one last look at Malcolm's unmoving corpse; Malcolm's gold and bejeweled crown continuing to spin in clattering circles on the floor after toppling from Malcolm's head along with his wig.

A bloodcurdling scream in a familiar voice made Hui Ying spin on her heels.

What she saw behind her was a Britannian soldier with his railgun directed at a terrified and teary-eyed Wei. She lifted her arms and begged in Cantonese, "Don't shoot!"

"What did you say?" The Britannian soldier belted. He shook his gun at Wei, but even the threat of violence wouldn't save her from her knotted tongue.

Major General Liu held Wei by the shoulder, positioning her like a wall between himself and the soldier. He fidgeted behind Wei with an extreme look of discomfort on his sweaty face; despite being a trained soldier, he couldn't seem to get the tiny plastic handgun he snuck into the talks free of its holster.

Hui Ying lunged at the soldier. He noticed her coming, but before the soldier could point his gun at her, Hui Ying curled her hand around the elongated muzzle and pushed it to the side.

A single lead round discharged into the floor.

Hui Ying grabbed the butt of the gun with her other hand. She lifted a leg and slammed the soldier in his kevlar with her dainty foot before she tore the gun from his hands.

"Don't move a muscle!" Hui Ying turned the gun on the soldier when he grabbed for the handgun on his hip. Hui Ying tapped the trigger of her gun, only intending to fire at the soldier's feet. However, the unfamiliar kickback of the rifle-sized weapon shifted the gun in Hui Ying's inexperienced hands. The stray bullet pierced the glass and metal ceiling, letting in a starlike sparkle of moonlight as a shower of glass shards rained down.

To the west, Britannian nobles fought to be first to squeeze into the elevator or get past the soldiers trying to ascend the stairs. Their angry hollers and terrified screams magnified tenfold along with the sound of an automatic gun as it unleashed a clip of rounds faster than even the most warmongering arms dealer could count.

In less than thirty seconds, dozens of both Britannian and Chinese lay motionless on the floor. Blood quickly pooled beneath their bodies and trickled down the nearly imperceptible slope of the floor, a troublesome tilt caused by the sinking foundation of the manmade island gradually yielding to the Yellow River. Chinese and Britannian blood ran together like the first tributaries of what would soon become a massive river, before eventually collecting into an ocean of death.

The red bead drawn by her gun trembled along with Hui Ying's hands. It was her first time firing a real gun, going her entire life without so much as touching one prior to Fei becoming her personal guard only a few months ago.

One look at Hui Ying was all it took to give the soldier enough confidence to whip out his handgun, obviously feeling himself more than a match for Hui Ying and her pilfered gun. But before the soldier could fire at Hui Ying, a stray serving cart bolted out of nowhere and mowed him down.

Clinging to the cart was Fei, leaning backward with her heels perched on the lower tier of the heavy steel cart. She jumped off the cart and, taking what appeared to be a black makeup kit from her back pocket, pulled it apart and snapped together again in the shape of a rectangular handgun.

Fei pointed her gun at the groaning soldier on the ground who, after one look at Fei's snakelike eyes, thought it best to raise his arms in surrender—before the grin of someone who believed themselves to have won cracked across his face.

Four red beads centered on Hui Ying, Wei, Fei, and Liu. But rather than fear, Fei glanced back at Hui Ying, her eyes communicating at a glance exactly what Hui Ying needed to do.

"Down!" Hui Ying spun around. She grabbing Wei and pulled the General down to the floor with them. The steel cart came apart at its seams, the doors, walls, and inner shelves becoming shields of varying shapes and sizes in the hands of a squad of six people, each of them dressed in black and white server's uniforms.

Two people leapt and landed atop Hui Ying. They shielding her, Wei, and even the portly Liu with the thick inner shelves of the cart. Bullets ricocheted off the metal for only a moment before they stopped, the shields lifting up to reveal four dead soldiers on the ground, while a fifth one rested with a scorchmarked bullet hole squarely in his head at Fei's feet.

"What is the meaning of all this?" General Liu had the gall to point his little pea-shooter of a gun at the uniformed young man who saved his life just a moment ago.

One of the uniformed women with cute round eyes, an unassuming girlish figure and natural dark brown locks cracked Liu in the back of the head with a serving tray, summarily knocking the man out cold with a gonglike _bwa-a-a-a-ng_.

"I hope you don't mind. We only have room for the three of you on the boat," the young man—he looked barely old enough to be a High School graduate—who threw himself over Hui Ying said in Japanese-accented Cantonese. His smooth skin, lightly styled hair dyed a pleasant shade of dirty blonde, and charming grin were just the sort one might find on the cover of a teen girls' magazine in Korea or Japan.

Hui Ying recognized his face in fact: not from a magazine, but as the server she noticed Fei speaking to earlier in the night.

"Not at all." Hui Ying shook her head. She chuckled, experiencing a mix of relief, anxiety, and just a pinch of vindication at witnessing General Liu's comeuppance at the hands of a girl armed only with a serving tray.

Fei leapt backwards, joining Hui Ying and Wei at the center of a solid shell of steel when the ensemble of six surrounded them, the girl with the serving tray climbing onto the boy's shoulders where she used her polished platter as a makeshift mirror to observe the ongoing fighting.

The young woman said something in Japanese. Although Hui Ying didn't know the language well enough to be her own perfect translator, she knew enough to pick out the name "Hikaru."

The young man said something in return, and another name—Akane—stuck out to Hui Ying. "Watch your step ladies," the young man, who Hui Ying assumed was named Hikaru, said. The group proceeded forward amid the occasional _plink plink-plink plink_ of bullets striking the metal walls.

Hui Ying latched onto Wei with one hand, and held her gun in the other.

A loud bang resounded and the hologram projector and lights went dark, obscuring the observatory in almost total darkness save for what was let in by the many bullet holes in the surrounding walls.

"Uh oh… better get moving!"

The clatter of shields dropping was followed by the feeling of hands gripping Hui Ying by her arm. A surprised squeal from Wei told a similar story, but the two women never let go of each other's hands. The next moment Hui Ying found herself running, pulled along by what felt like the wind itself in the direction of the glowing southern service elevator.

The leg of a dead reporter caused the doors of the elevator to bounce open and closed every several seconds. Bodies and equipment blocked the staircase and littered the ground, but the floor may as well have been clear with all the impediment it was to Hui Ying and her group led by Hikaru and Akane.

Rounding about the elevator, Hikaru quickly rapped one of the thick bronze support beams embedded in the wall. However, rather than the quiet thud of solid metal, a hollow echo replied.

A thin line of light cracked in the metal beam before a panel swung open to reveal a well-built man in a dirty busser's smock. A thick scar added to the creases on the man's forehead, with numerous others visibly crisscrossing his arms visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves. He nodded to Hui Ying and said in a gruff, guttural voice:

"Lady Oboro sends her regards. We've secured transportation over the water, and the people sent by Golden Company are waiting for us beyond the city walls."

* * *

**[Date: 06/04/1995 ATB, Time: 7:06 p.m., Somewhere in Hubei Province, China]**

The digital numbers on Empress Wu's monitor blinked at the changing of the time from 7:06 to 7:07 p.m.

' _The preliminary talks must be well underway by now.'_ Emperor Xiang sat beside a restless Wu. She stirred from her sleep at even the slightest jolt of the train upon the tracks, a motion sensitivity inherited from her mother unfortunately magnified by her illness.

"Doctor," Wu rasped between clenched teeth. "I can't stand it any longer—"

"You can have one more," doctor Eng warily replied. She knitted her silvery brows and made her way over to a locked metal cabinet. She unlocked the cabinet with a small silver key, and took out an already opened vial of white pills.

"Only two more hours before we arrive in Vermillion City," Xiang rested his head against Wu's. He pressed between the tendons of her inner forearm, a remedy Xiang learned long ago by observing Wu during their many travels.

Wu let out a heavy sigh of relief. Doctor Eng glanced at Wu's monitor, then at Xiang. When she realized what Xiang did to help relieve Wu of some of her discomfort, the old doctor nodded approvingly.

"During my time in a Britannian University, oh the way they would sneer at our honored remedies! Western medicine is good for emergencies, but it does not harmonize the body's qi the way ours does," she said. Doctor Eng put away the bottle of pills and relocked the cabinet.

Xiang allowed his eyelids to close. The muffled _clakka-clakka-clakka_ of the tracks drew him into a meditative trance somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

_Clakka-clakka…._

_Clakka-clakka…._

_Cla—KOOOOM…._

Something interrupted the train's rhythmic motion.

It wouldn't be the first time a train Xiang was on hit some unfortunate farmer's livestock. Once, when he was but a boy, Xiang even had the extreme misfortune of being on a train when it struck a panda that'd somehow wedged its paw in the tracks. His mother, just another of the then Emperor's many concubines, had the train stop and pay proper respect to the venerable creature before it continued on its trek.

Whatever it was, they hadn't the time to stop and investigate. The talks were of far too great importance, and Wu's condition would only improve with proper rest—

The pittering of hailstones bounced off the metal roof.

' _Hailstones in spring?'_ Xiang furrowed his brows. The young rice wouldn't do well against a storm vicious enough to make such a terrible noise even through four inches of steel...

A loud bang sounded outside the rail car. Both Wu's heartbeat and the car's dim lights fluttered.

"What was that?" Wu gasped when another bang sounded. This time, however, the train car lurched with the sound. Doctor Eng grabbed the pole securing Wu's IV bag, barely stopping herself from falling at the sudden jerk.

Another explosion followed, and another, and another—

A light illuminated over the door. The door swung open and, amid the cacophony of sound, one of Xiang's guards yelled, "Britannia has—"

An explosion more powerful than all the others combined ripped through the car. The electric lights extinguished, putting the car in complete darkness. The car's automatic air brakes squealed into action, jarring the car along with its passengers.

Xiang grabbed Wu. He tensed every muscle in his body, wrapping himself around Wu when they lifted from the bed and went soaring through the room along with anything else that wasn't bolted down.

Xiang's body repeatedly struck the fixtures and walls of the room as the train car tumbled, the metal sides of the car beating the ground and filling the car with noise like the inside of a drum.

Something punctured Xiang's back. A flash of heat pierced deep into his left lung.

Still, Xiang didn't relax his grasp on Wu. He willed himself to become her protective cocoon, disregarding his own safety just as she once disregarded hers protecting him from his powerful older brothers' assassins in the short time between his being named successor and inheriting his father's throne.

The train car seemed to fall end over end for an eternity before it rolled to a gradual stop.

"Xiang?" Wu whispered weakly from where she lay gripped within Xiang's arms.

An incoherent gurgle sputtered from Xiang's mouth. His lungs desperately tried to expand, but rapidly filled with something that wasn't air.

Xiang's body convulsed underneath Wei's. He exhaled a chestful of blood before he could think to turn his face to one side.

" _Lăopó_ ," Xiang sputtered before body-temperature fluid again filled the hollow space in his chest.

" _Lăogōng_ ," Wu weakly cried. Her fingers felt warm against Xiang's bloodsoaked cheek. "You shouldn't have…."

Xiang lifted a shaky hand to his cheek. He grasped Wu's thin fingers. 'Gun Yam _, protect my dear—'_

A horrendous crunching and pounding struck the side of the train car directly above Xiang and Wu.

The door to the room ripped open. The waxing evening crescent illuminated the interior of the car with its silvery glow through a puncture ripped in the car's outer wall.

A pair of small shadows peered down into the car. In Xiang's delirium, he thought he heard an impossible sound: the laughter of children at play.

But that wouldn't make any sense, for children to be in a place like this...

"Look, _Fratele Meu!_ There's one for each of us!" A young girl with waist-length, pale blonde hair sweetly giggled.

"They look just like two grubs curled up in a dead treetrunk, _Sora Mea_." A young boy with bob-cut hair and features similar to the girl chuckled and grinned.

"I guess that makes us the woodpeckers then, doesn't it?" A polelike shadow emerged from behind the girl, and glittered with the polished sheen of black carbon steel.

The percussion of an automatic rifle pelted the inside of the car, a hail of bullets streaking to a point just a few feet from where Xiang and Wu lay. Xiang shifted his his eyes in their sockets and saw the twitching, mutilated body of the guard who entered Wu's private room in the moment before the car derailed.

A handgun of the sort that was standard issue to even the most lowly soldier skittered across the floor toward Xiang. One of the guards' fingers, severed by the rapid and indiscriminate gunfire, remained on the trigger.

Xiang sputtered, too weak to do anything else to express his surprise when he saw Wu reach for the gun with her pale, thin arm.

A shadow flickered across the moon. Wu's fingers flicked the handle of the gun once, before going completely limp.

Warmth soaked through the thick robes covering Xiang's belly. Wu slid off of Xiang, half of her to the left, and the other half to the right. Her eyes stared blankly into his through the gaps in her bloodsoaked hair.

"Whoops, looks like I got both of them in one swing. Sorry _Sora Mea_." The child with the boyish voice lamented. He landed between Wu's upper half and the disfigured body of Xiang's former guard.

The last thing Xiang saw clearly was his hand, still interlaced with Wu's. A shadow in the shape of an axe—a strange thing to imagine, Xiang thought—lowered behind Wu and seemed to set on the ground.

"That's alright _Fratele Meu_ , you're still getting used to your new arm. I forgive you," the girlish child responded. A sound like the fluttering of a dove's wings swooped down, and what sounded like a pair of feet splashed near Xiang's ear.

"Look _Fratele Meu_ , the Emperor is still alive! And how romantic!" The female voice bent closer to Xiang's ear. If Xiang could feel anything anymore, his nose might've tickled at the girls' long hair brushing over his nose. " _Fratele Meu_ , promise me we'll die just like them, in a pool of each other's blood."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Sora Mea," the boy responded.

The last thing Emperor Xiang perceived before his final sense dimmed was the echoing laughter of a young boy and girl.

' _Chen… Hui Ying….'_

* * *

**[Date: 06/04/1995 ATB, Time: 7:18 pm, Royal Residence Maintenance Labrynth, Vermillion City, China]**

Flanked on all sides by her new escorts, Hui Ying, Wei, and Fei sped through a labyrinthine maze of service shafts and tunnels. They whizzed past signs, turned at forks, and took otherwise unused pathways that led them on a general downward path, only encountering a handful of bewildered staff. For once Hui Ying felt like she was in the company of people who deserved the title of "ghost" more than her, her and Wei's slippered feet somehow making more noise than Fei in her heels and the group of "servants" wielding heavy metal shields.

"We'll be at the docks soon, Princess!" Hikaru flashed a winning smile at Hui Ying, the sort of "put your faith in me" grin that would probably make any other girl melt and throw themselves at him.

"Quiet, Hibiki!" The gruff man leading the group growled in Japanese. He was a bit on the short side, the top of his head only bobbing as high as Hui Ying's chin, yet his snarl made the lot of young operatives—including Hikaru—wince.

The short man sharply turned down a narrow side corridor. He pulled a ring of keys out of a pocket in his dirty apron, and unlocked a door labeled with Chinese symbols and Britannian letters underneath: _Waterway Control_.

"... the water! I don't want to hear that Chinese bitch got through on my watch!" A Britannian man in a high ranking officer's uniform spat the order into a microphone. He slammed his fist on the table just when the door swung open, effectively distracting the half dozen officers in the room from noticing anything.

The leader of the group swiped the gun from Hui Ying's soft hands. He expertly planted a bullet at the base of the head of each person already in the room, the quiet sakuradite railgun proving more than powerful enough to spatter several of the many dozens of screens making up the surrounding walls with blood.

Five of the "servants" wielding shields frisked the officers' bodies and walked away with at least one handgun each.

The boy, Hikaru, walked over to the man who was obviously his superior in this operation. "Sorry, Goru," Hikaru apologized with a sheepish bob of his head in a gesture that didn't put his shoulders lower than Goru's nose.

Goru slammed his large hand down on Hikaru's dyed hair. He roughed the young man's photoshoot-ready gelled hair into a spiky and disheveled mess. While Hui Ying couldn't quite make out all of what Goru said in his odd Japanese dialect, she did pick up on the name "Oboro"—the name of one of the contacts Hui Ying had Fei work closely with in preparation for this stopgap escape.

' _Britannia's declared war on China. And Emperor Malcolm… he's really dead.'_

It took only a moment for the peaceful talks to turn bloody once Malcolm declared war. With all the cameras broadcasting live at the moment of Malcolm's declaration and fall, there would be no containing the ember of Vermillion City.

The entire world would soon be aflame with various countries all taking advantage of the monumental shift and confusion to try and gain advantage over the others.

It would be a bloodbath unlike anything the world had ever seen.

"Princess," Fei brought Hui Ying's attention back to the briefcase in her possession.

Hui Ying reached under her robes and produced a small steel key. A slight _chik_ sounded when the fine lock on the briefcase opened. Hui Ying lifted open the briefcase. She carefully handed the papers and case of data sticks inside to Wei before pressing down on the almost velvety inside of the thick, heavy case—

Hui Ying pulled from the top and bottom of the briefcase a pair of thin velveteen vests filled with a curious liquid; the vests were supposedly even more effective than kevlar, only one of the latest advancements in technology that Chinese spies brought back from overseas. Beneath the vests were also a pair of small, thin guns made up of 100 percent plastic components, similar to the gun General Liu saw fit to try and smuggle in under his belt.

Hui Ying kept one gun for herself, offering the other to a reluctant Wei. While the guns wouldn't do much, they would serve as a fine last line of defense, should they be necessary.

"I think you'll find these more useful." Akane —the girl who knocked General Liu out with a metal platter—offered up a trio of revolvers, their bullet chambers fully loaded with rounds.

A flurry of Japanese followed with the various servants scouring the control board until the working screens all displayed shots of the levees, dikes, and canals throughout Vermillion City. Red lights beside the screens flashed one by one to green.

Goru barked an order to the young men and women dressed as servants, each responding in turn when he spoke the names Keiko, Yui, Sota, and Ryuki. They set themselves to the task of piling furniture—and even a water cooler—in front of the door they'd just come through.

"It's 600 yards to the boat that's waiting for us," Goru said. He sped on his short legs to a back wall where there was a heavy looking black door labeled _Dock L._

Again the servants took up positions with their shields around Hui Ying, Wei, and Fei.

"Hui Ying," Wei whispered. She gripped Hui Ying's hand, their soft fingers knitting together without a slip of space between. "We won't be returning to China for a while, will we?"

"Perhaps," Hui Ying whispered in return. "There may not be a China to return to, when all this is over."

The two women directed their steadfast gazes at each other. Without so much as a hint of concern for the eight sets of eyes observing them, the two women embraced as if for the first time, their lips coming together with unrestrained passion in the final moment before they abandoned everything they knew.

Hikaru stared wide-eyed at the scene taking place in front of him, his rumpled hair magnificently complimenting his dumbfounded expression. He choked back a disappointed whimper, his shoulders falling in a heavy slump while Keiko, Yui, Sota, and Ryuki did their best to hold back their chuckles of amusement.

Akane rolled her eyes and said in crystal clear Japanese, " I don't know why you thought you stood a chance with a princess to begin with. This isn't an anime."

Goru barked an order that immediately silenced his six charges. Hui Ying and Wei reluctantly pulled apart, both with bright blushes on their faces. They kept their fingers interlaced while those around them readied their weapons and shields.

Goru tapped open the door. He eyed the dock for a moment before carefully tiptoeing out.

The group stepped out into a concrete-slabbed district of warehouses. The moon, waxed to nearly half its full strength, shimmered down on what appeared to be a relatively quiet dock manned only by a handful of soldiers. Sounds of gunfire to the east made Hui Ying's heart jump in her chest, a sentiment obviously felt by Wei as well from the way she tightened her grasp on Hui Ying.

Taking the lead position, Goru stuck to the dark and shady areas of the docks, bypassing large crates, cranes, and boats of all sizes on the way out to the open water.

Before long, the group came to the end of the docks. Goru reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sachet, inside of which was a tiny square mirror like what a housewife might carry in her purse.

He flashed a pattern using the dim moonlight. The gentle hum of a motor revved up, and a glossy black speedboat peeked out from the shadow of a large cargo ship flying a Britannian flag.

' _We're sneaking out right underneath their noses.'_ Hui Ying gulped. Things were going so well, she hesitated to think they'd escape so easily.

"You're first, Princess," Goru firmly set his eyes on Hui Ying.

Hui Ying gave Wei a look before the two hesitantly released each other from their grasp. Goru latched his sausagelike fingers onto Hui Ying by her thin waist, his burly muscles easily hefting the thin woman from the pier and gently handing her down into the hovercraft to a pair of waiting hands.

"Well… you certainly are some of the loveliest baggage I've ever been tasked with transporting," said the man who accepted Hui Ying into his hands. He was a man who looked to be in his 30s, with tanned skin and features which were otherwise decidedly rooted somewhere in southern Euro Britannian. His dirty blonde hair glistened with natural oil and he left the top three buttons of his loose shirt undone, yet it was the messy sort of look which somehow only seemed to magnify the natural charisma of the man before Hui Ying as he removed his feathered hat with a showy flourish and bowed. "My name is Sancho, and my partner Sulamian and I are here to provide our escort services to you and yours, Princess, on behalf of Golden Company. Should there be anything you find yourself in need of during our brief voyage, please, don't hesitate to ask."

Sancho replaced his hat on his head as Fei leapt down onto the boat with her own strength, followed by Hikaru, Akane, and two others in servant clothes who each landed gracefully like cats on the listing craft.

"Miss?" Goru stepped back from the edge of the pier. "Now's not the time for—"

Hui Ying perceived the the hum of a motor above just a split second before a bright spotlight flashed the pier.

" _WEI!_ " Hui Ying screamed, her voice completely drowned out by a flurry of machine gunfire.

Sancho grabbed Hui Ying and forced her down onto the deck. The dual motors in the back of the speedboat spun viciously in the water, the boat making a quick, almost logic-defying spin to catch a pair of large shadows that fell from the dock.

The boat sped full tilt away from the dockson its way to the wide-open river gate. Everyone in the boat clung to anything in reach to keep from getting thrown off the boat as it wove in wild patterns in an effort to evade the majority of the Britannian helicraft's bullets.

Crafts both civilian and official alike moored themselves with bright white flags illuminated on their decks in a vain attempt to stay out of the fighting as fires broke out in the surrounding city. The oppressed and oppressors of the population alike reacted to the news that Britannia and China were officially at war, a reaction that would likely only grow more violent as time wore on.

A sonic boom ripped through the sky. A battalion of attack planes shot past like singleminded hornets from the west. One let down a purple Knightmare frame on the docks, while the rest continued onward to unleash a barrage of bullets on the eastern quadrant. Explosions too large to be from gas leaks bombarded the area as the planes dropped their entire payload on the unsuspecting citizens whose night off also marked their last.

But Hui Ying was of no mind to damn the Britannians whose preparedness for war far outdid their efforts at the talks.

Amid the gunfire and frenzied whirring of the speedboat's dual motors, Hui Ying slammed her palm under Sancho's chin, throwing him off just enough for her to wriggle out from underneath him. She darted to the back of the craft where the two figures who fell from the pier landed.

One was Goru, the stout man's arm and leg bleeding from a pair of holes blasted in them that appeared, compared to his many other scars, benign.

Not far from him was Wei. She gripped a humongous silver case in her arms, something Hui Ying never saw before. The case was pockmarked with dents, some of which still had bullets firmly embedded in the dimples.

"What is this?" Hui Ying stumbled when the boat veered to the right in a tight turn. She held herself back from leaping onto Wei, but looked her over as best she could in an effort to find any unseen injuries Wei might've sustained.

"R-reparations," Wei's grin trembled as she tried to lift the heavy case from her body.

"I hope those 'reparations' of yours are worth it; they just cost two kids their lives!" Goru snapped at Wei. He let out an angry hiss as Akane stuck her fingers into his wounds to retrieve the bullets before applying further first aid.

The sound of gunfire intensified as additional Britannian helicraft joined the chase after the hovercraft weaving at maximum speed through the city's canals. The craft turned a final bend and the Yellow River opened up before them, but the helicraft showed no sign of backing off.

"I can't shake them!" The boat operator shouted in a quick accent. One glance confirmed Hui Ying's suspicions after hearing the name Sulamain earlier; the operator's dark and weathered skin, deep-set eyes, accent, and scruffy beard proved to her he was a man from one of the many desert countries formerly known as the Middle East.

A bullet struck one of the twin motors, the motor shrieking and clunking as though it were in pain before cutting out and reducing the boat's power to a fraction of its full speed.

"Mr. Ganabati's not going to be happy if we let his game show prize get any more roughed up than this," Sancho said. He patted Sulamain on the shoulder and bolted to the back of the boat with the agility of a seaman well acquainted with travel through rough waters.

Sancho threw up one of the back seats of the speedboat, revealing a chest typically reserved for life jackets and the like.

However, rather than pulling out any life jackets…

Sancho hefted a heavy metal tube out of the chest. He slammed one foot down on the dead motor and aimed the metal tube at the lead helicraft.

"I do love it when a chase ends with a nice big bang."

A blast of fire erupted out the back of the metal tube as a small missile streaked toward the lead helicraft. The missile struck true dead in the center of the craft's windshield, and the helicraft exploded in a conflagration of flam before the gnarled mess of burning metal dropped into the water. Sancho quickly swapped out his spent launcher for another and shot down a second craft, followed by the third.

Sulamain cut the speedboat down to low, the boat's loud single motor slowing to a gentle hum that just barely kept it moving upstream against the Yellow River's flow.

Sancho wiped his forearm over his brow and exhaled a long breath. He hopped down onto the deck of the boat and flipped his hair to the side. "Nice work people. The next stop on our whirlwind tour will be..."

Rather than listen to Sancho's briefing of the next leg of their journey, Hui Ying's attention focused wholly on Vermillion City behind her.

Luoyang was destroyed in one of the most devastating floods in all of China's history. It seemed fitting in a way that its replacement Vermillion City, designed to withstand such a watery catastrophe from ever occurring again, would meet its end in the form of hellish flames, a torchlight and herald to the fire and bloodshed to come.

* * *

**[Date: 07/04/1995 ATB, Time: 9:30 am, Lagoon Company Office, Roanapur, Thailand]**

A young man the image of the quintessential Japanese businessman walked out of the bathroom and into the central room of a rather dingy apartment. The apartment was set up to look like an office. However, one look and anyone with even a little bit of common decency or sense would never choose to do business with any business who kept an office like this.

Luckily for this particular company, they catered specifically to clients without decency or sense.

A plum colored sofa and chair set were rather awkwardly arranged toward one side of the room, the velveteen surfaces pitted with cigarette burns. A short table in the middle of the room looked no better than the sofa and chair, the humidity-warped wood studded with bulletholes and piled with a mix of refuse, from half crushed silver beer cans and old pizza boxes, and over a dozen illicit magazines depicting unbelievably brazen men and women on the covers tempting anyone who sees them to take a look inside.

The young man rifled through the stinking beer cans, several of them clattering to the floor before he managed to find the remote to a shoebox size radio television set in a corner of the room.

He pressed the power button on the remote and the fuzzy television screen flashed on. The television needed several seconds to warm up before the picture cleared and any sort of intelligible sound would come out, time which this prudent young man made the best of by setting himself to the task of perfectlying tying a tie around his neck.

But the young man stopped his diligent task, just a final tug from cinching the neucelike tie.

' _This… is not good.'_

"... of surgery has survived an assassination attempt-t the Vermillion City- declaring war between the Holy Britannian Empire and China."

Images of riots around the world flashed the screen. Burning homes and businesses in Britannian occupied territories. People lying dead or dying in the streets. Knightmares winning out against a fleet of tanks via their superior mobility. Vermillion City, recognizable only because of how often it'd been in the news of late, nearly unrecognizable after a single night of warring reduced three quarters of the once resplendent gem of a city to a pile of blackened rubble.

A calmer image flashed upon the screen and depicted Emperor Malcolm di Britannia, unconscious and hooked up to life support with bandages wrapping his eye. A timestamp placed the photograph at just a few hours prior, while a footer below the image read in bold letters:

**Britannia Declares War on China. Emperor Survives Assassination Attempt.**

The image changed again, to that of a train's wreckage. Aerial and ground shots show the blackened and charred remains of the Chinese Royal Train, the ornate red and gold cars crushed like beer cans and several hundreds of feet down a steep mountain from the tracks. One shot depicted the glowing remains of the train's lead engine, the dented out and half melted down cab sparkling with traces of sakuradite ore.

**Chinese Emperor and Empress Perish in Train Derailment after Sakuradite Explosion.**

The"office" door slammed open. A dented bell jangled awkwardly above the door in ineffective protest.

A young woman rather outrageously clad in a black crop top, military boots, and denim shorts that looked like they'd been cut off above the thigh by a worn out machete stormed into the room. A barblike pattern of black crescents decorated the athletically built woman's left arm spanning from her neck to her elbow. In the crook of her arm were a pair of holsters packing twin ivory-handled handguns.

The woman's sharp expression beneath her dark ponytailed hair displayed a mix of moods ranging from a hangover's annoyance to an almost childish, unsettling zeal.

"Quit wastin' time with that bullshit news," the woman deeply growled. She lowered her voice almost as if in an attempt to completely erase every last possible vestige of femininity from herself. She thumbed at the door over her shoulder and shunted her head in a vicious jerk. "Move yer' ass Rock! We've got a job to do."

"C-coming Revy!" The young Japanese in businessman's attire, Rock—known in his past life as Rokuro Okajima—securely fastened his tie. Rock switched off the television, a momentary silence filling the room before the remote control rejoined its beer can comrades who greeted it with a celebratory clatter.

The bell over the door suffered another harsh blow as the door to the offices of the Lagoon Company Delivery Service slammed shut, its four members heading out for what was sure to be another…

… shall we say "interesting" delivery.


End file.
